Harry Potter and the Headsman's Hostage
by Mantis FA
Summary: What if Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts had begun not with a dementor attack and a trumped-up charge but with a birthday party and a ransom note? In this AU, the Order's decision to pull Harry out of Privet Drive on July 31 has far-reaching consequences.
1. Prologue: Conspiration

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Prologue**: **Conspiration**

"Fair is foul and foul is fair.

Hover through the fog and filthy air."

--The Weird Sisters, in Shakespeare's _Macbeth_

The masked wizard knelt on the cold flagstone floor, eyes downcast, avoiding the penetrating stare of the reptilian red eyes that gazed out from beneath his Master's hood. At last, his Master spoke.

"It is a fine plan, my friend," he said softly. His cold, sibilant voice resembled a serpent's hiss.

"Thank you, my Lord," the man murmured, relieved.

"It is not subtle, perhaps, but it is quite pleasingly cruel – no less than I would have expected of you. You are certain that he has feelings for this girl?"

"I believe my source to be reliable, my Lord."

"Yes, I see that you do. That is well. The boy should suffer greatly even if he refuses the bait – and I do not think he will. His fondness for playing the hero makes him quite predictable. The plan does carry risks, of course, but I believe they are acceptable, as only you and those you have recruited will bear them. You may proceed."

"At once, my Lord." The man bowed low, then turned to leave.

"One more thing," his Master said.

"My Lord?" the man asked, turning back.

"You and your servants will drink this." His Master's pale, long fingered hand emerged from an inner pocket of his robes, holding four little stone phials sealed with wax. "It is a potion of my own devising. It is quite inert by itself, but if it mixes with Veritaserum in the blood, it forms a fatal poison. If you should fall into the hands of my enemies, you will not be forced to betray me as young Crouch was. Such a pity… never have I had a better and more faithful servant…. Well. Succeed in this, my friend, and you will find yourself elevated to the place at my side which he would have held, had he escaped capture."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"The potion remains in the blood for a week and a day – more than enough time to bring your plan to fruition and return to me. I would advise you not to be captured alive; the death this poison brings is quite, _quite_ painful."

"I understand, my Lord," the man said. He placed three of the phials in a pocket of his robes, then flicked the wax seal off the fourth with his thumbnail and lifted it to his mouth. Raising the potion to his lips, he downed it without a trace of hesitation, grimacing at the bitter taste, then bowed once more, turned, and swept out of the room.

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	2. Chapter 1: Convocation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Chapter 1:** **Convocation**

"In comradeship is danger countered best."

--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The thirty-first of July was the hottest day of the year so far. A brief thunderstorm the previous night had turned the air thick and humid, while doing nothing to relieve the oppressive heat or the chronic water shortage that had left the carefully tended lawns of Privet Drive browning in the relentless summer sun. Most of the denizens of Privet Drive had retreated to the air-conditioned comfort of their spacious living rooms to watch their wide-screen televisions; the rest were still at Sunday services, perhaps to pray for cooler weather.

Harry Potter was grateful for the withering heat, as it meant he could wander the streets of Little Whinging without attracting the hostile stares and muttered comments of neighbors who had been told by his aunt and uncle, the Dursleys, that he was on holiday from St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Of course, they couldn't very well explain that he attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry even if they didn't hate the very idea of the school, but Harry still felt they could have concocted a less humiliating cover story. In any case, being outdoors in the heat was infinitely preferable to being indoors with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who would either ignore Harry or shout at him, depending on their mood.

Harry walked until he reached the small park a few blocks from the Dursleys' house. There was shade there, and a water fountain, and with any luck someone would have abandoned a newspaper on one of the benches. Over the last few weeks, he had grown increasingly anxious, as neither the wizards' _Daily Prophet_ nor any of the Muggle news sources had given the slightest hint of anything that might be connected with Lord Voldemort's return. When it hit the _Daily Prophet_, of course, it would have to be front page, banner headline news – the Dark Lord's reemergence on the magical scene would be the story of the decade. The Muggle news wouldn't be nearly so clear on what was going on, of course, but Harry kept expecting to find reports of the sort of inexplicable disasters, deaths, and disappearances which had been routine during Voldemort's reign of terror fourteen years earlier. The complete absence of such news was beginning to unnerve Harry. What on earth was Voldemort up to?

The letters he had received from his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and his godfather, Sirius Black, were little better. All of them were apparently worried about their mail being intercepted, and so could tell him nothing even remotely sensitive. He did get the sense that they were all in the same place – perhaps at Ron's parents' house – and that they were doing some kind of work to prepare for the coming battle against Voldemort. Harry was starting to feel rather resentful. After all, hadn't he done far more than either Ron or Hermione already? He was the one who had faced and frustrated Voldemort on no less than three occasions, now – four, if you included his encounter with the shadow of Voldemort's sixteen-year-old self in the Chamber of Secrets. Young Tom Riddle might not have had all the Dark Lord's powers, but his cunning and cruelty were there in full measure – and he'd had the basilisk. His command of that monstrous serpent, with its deadly glance and venomous fangs, had more than made up for his own lack of strength. _Of course, I was bloody lucky to survive any of our encounters,_ Harry thought. _Especially the last time…._ He shuddered at the memory: Cedric Diggory dead on the ground, the circle of Death Eaters mocking him, Voldemort's high, chilling laughter, and the overwhelming agony of the Cruciatus Curse wracking his body….

Harry shook his head, pushing the painful recollections to the back of his mind. Today was his fifteenth birthday. He expected that sometime during the day owls would arrive with birthday cards from Ron, Hermione, and Sirius. One had already come the previous night with a brief note from Hagrid, the kindly half-giant who served Hogwarts as gamekeeper, and taught the Care of Magical Creatures classes. Hagrid was abroad on a secret errand for Professor Dumbledore, the Hogwarts Headmaster. Harry had an idea that it involved getting in touch with his giant kin and attempting to persuade them to work against Voldemort, instead of allying with him as many had done in the previous war. He had evidently sent his note early, not being sure how long the owl would take to reach Harry from his present location.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry did not immediately notice the three people throwing a Frisbee around in the park. What finally got his attention was the enormous black dog accompanying them, a shaggy, bear-like animal that might have been a cross between a mastiff and an Irish wolfhound. The dog came bounding right up to Harry and stopped in front of him, tongue lolling out in the canine equivalent of a grin.

"It can't be…" Harry muttered, kneeling to look more closely at the dog, which looked awfully familiar. "Sirius?"

The dog gave a most un-doglike nod, and raised its front paw to shake hands. Ignoring the paw, Harry threw his arms around its furry neck and hugged it. "Sirius, what are you doing here?"

"The same thing we all are," said a cheerful female voice behind him. "Wishing you a very happy birthday."

Harry jumped to his feet and spun around. "Hermione!"

For a moment, he couldn't see anything but thick, bushy brown hair as Hermione Granger hugged him fiercely. When she let go, it was only so the tall, gangling, red-haired young man behind her could take her place. Ron Weasley's bear hug left Harry breathless when he finally disengaged. "Happy birthday, Harry!" he said. "Good to see you!" He looked his friend up and down for a moment. "You look like you've grown six inches since the end of last term!"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'm going to need a whole new set of robes before I go back to Hogwarts this year."

"He was getting taller all last year," said Hermione. "It's just more obvious now that we haven't seen him in a month."

"Much more obvious," said Ron.

"You've grown a bit yourself, mate," Harry observed. "I think you're as tall as Bill now."

"Yeah," said Ron. "His old clothes fit pretty well."

"What are you all doing in Little Whinging?" Harry asked. "Does this mean I finally get to find out what's been going on since I saw you last?"

"Among other things," said another voice from behind Harry. He looked around to see a thin man in a rather threadbare khaki suit standing beside the black dog. The man's thinning hair and unhealthy complexion made him look older than Harry remembered, but he had no trouble recognizing him: it was Remus Lupin, Harry's favorite among his four former Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. Lupin and Sirius had been among Harry's father's closest friends, from their first year at Hogwarts to that tragic Halloween night almost fourteen years ago when Lord Voldemort had murdered Harry's parents, only to see his power broken in a failed attempt to kill the infant Harry.

"Yes, we're going to explain at least some of what's been going on," Lupin said. "But… not here, I think. First, we've got to collect your things from the Dursleys' house. Don't worry, they won't be home; we've arranged a little diversion for them."

Ron grinned wickedly. "That oversized cousin of yours and some of his friends were vandalizing cars down the street. Hermione used one of those public felly-tones to call the – please-men, I think they're called? – anyway, Muggle law enforcement, and Lupin hit your cousin with an Impediment Jinx when they ran for it. Don't worry, nobody saw; Lupin was hiding behind a car, and it looked like Dudley just tripped over his feet."

"Your aunt and uncle should be heading down to the police station to collect him right about now," Hermione added. "We should get going."

Harry whistled appreciatively. "That should keep them busy for a while. Great, let's go pack my things. We'd best not be there when they get home; I doubt they'll be in a very good mood."

Harry led his friends back to number four, Privet Drive. The Dursleys had locked the door on their way out, and Harry did not have a key with him, but Lupin merely pointed his wand at the lock and muttered, "_Alohomora_." The lock clicked open, and they all trooped inside and up to Harry's room. He began picking up his scattered school things and placing them in his trunk, but Lupin said, "I think this will go quicker if I do it." He made a complex, sweeping motion with his wand and said, "_Pack._" At once, Harry's cauldron, books, clothes, and telescope flew into the air, floated to his trunk, and arranged themselves neatly inside it.

"Wow," said Harry. "That's one I'll have to learn." He placed the large birdcage containing his snowy owl, Hedwig, atop the trunk, then picked up his Firebolt racing broom from the corner of the room.

The black dog, which had waited in the doorway while Lupin packed Harry's things, now came up to Harry and stood on its hind legs, placing its paws on his shoulders. Its body suddenly seemed to melt and flow, the fur vanishing into the skin, a swirl of black robes appearing out of nowhere, until the dog was gone and a tall, thin man with shaggy black hair stood facing Harry with his hands on Harry's shoulders.

Harry's godfather stared into his face for a moment, apparently studying him. Then he grinned broadly. "You look more like James than ever, Harry. Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry replied. "You look better than the last time I saw you; you're not quite so gaunt."

"Thank you. Molly Weasley's cooking is a vast improvement on the rats. Now, you won't need to come back here until next summer, so you might want to leave a note for your aunt and uncle before we go."

"I suppose so," Harry sighed. "Not that they'd be anything but delighted if I simply vanished without a trace and never came back…." He had to set down the broom and go downstairs to the kitchen to find pen and paper, as all his own writing supplies were packed away in his trunk and he had no wish to rummage though it. "Dear Aunt Petunia," he wrote, "You'll be pleased to know that I've gone to spend the rest of the summer with my friends the Weasleys. See you next June. Harry."

Leaving the note on the kitchen table, he ran back up the stairs to his room. His friends were standing in a circle; Ron and Sirius each grasped a handle of his trunk, and Hermione held Hedwig's cage. In the middle of the circle was the Frisbee they'd been playing with; they each had one hand on it. Lupin, the only one with a free hand, had his wand out. Harry didn't need to be told what to do; he picked up his broom again, then stepped into the circle between Ron and Hermione and took hold of the edge of the Frisbee. Lupin tapped it with his wand and said, "_Portus._" Harry felt the odd jerking sensation behind his navel that came with traveling by Portkey. The room vanished, and he was being pulled forward through a whirlwind of sound and color.

A moment later, his feet hit the ground hard; he stumbled and nearly fell. He blinked and looked around. He, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and Lupin were standing in the middle of a large, rectangular clearing, surrounded on all sides by an oak forest. The air felt somewhat cooler than it had in Little Whinging – though the summer day was still hot, it was no longer oppressively so. At each end of the clearing, there was a row of three tall poles, each topped with a hoop perhaps three feet across. The long sides of the field were lined with stadium seats in raised stands at about the same height as the rings. The stands were empty, and looked somewhat dilapidated; Harry felt an odd, indefinable sense of something sad and lonely about the place. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Cheshire," Sirius replied. "Just outside the village of Clodbury-on-Lug. This field is protected by permanent anti-Muggle wards; lately, we've added other defenses to keep the Ministry and the Death Eaters from knowing we're here. We mostly use the place for dueling practice."

"Can't the Ministry track Portkeys?" Harry asked. "I thought Mr. Weasley told me that they monitored them."

Lupin laughed. "They do, but we've found a way around that. The assistant director of the Portkey Office is an old school friend of Minerva McGonagall's, Eglantine Pryce. She helped us develop Untraceable Portkeys; they combine the regular Portkey teleportation spell with a version of the Unplottable Ward that keeps anyone from locating Hogwarts on a map. Using one of them is no more detectable to the Ministry than regular Apparition."

"That takes care of the Ministry, but what about Voldemort?"

Hermione winced, and Ron opened his mouth to protest Harry's use of the dreaded name, but desisted as Sirius frowned at him. Lupin cleared his throat, sounding a bit uncomfortable. "We don't _think_ he has any way of tracking them either, but of course we have no way of knowing for certain. Goodness knows he's managed to surprise us before. Still, we've done the best we can."

"Who's 'we?'" Harry asked.

"The Order of the Phoenix," said Sirius. "A secret society of wizards dedicated to fighting Voldemort. Dumbledore is in charge, of course. Thanks to you, he was able to recall us all to active service within a day of Voldemort's return."

"You can bet Voldemort wasn't too happy about that," Lupin added, in a tone of grim satisfaction. "You really messed things up for him, Harry. You weren't supposed to survive."

"I almost didn't," said Harry soberly. "I'm only here because my wand happens to have a feather from the same phoenix as his."

"I don't think that's just happenstance, Harry," Sirius said. "It seems more like fate."

"Maybe so," Harry allowed, without much conviction. "So what is Voldemort up to? I've been reading the _Daily Prophet_, and watching the Muggle news too, and I haven't seen a hint of anything that could be related to the Death Eaters."

"That's because they're lying low at the moment," Lupin said. "That idiot Fudge still doesn't believe Voldemort's back. He's managed to convince himself that you were just trying to get attention, and that Dumbledore's supporting you to stir up trouble because he wants to replace Fudge as Minister of Magic.

Harry stared at him in shock. "That's insane! That has to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard. How can he believe that?"

"Because if Voldemort is back, it means the Ministry is going to have more trouble to deal with than they have in fourteen years – and Fudge isn't up to it," Sirius replied grimly. "He became Minister after the last war, when Millicent Bagnold retired. A lot of people wanted Dumbledore to take the job, but he refused to leave Hogwarts. At first Fudge was always asking Dumbledore for advice, but lately he's gotten jealous of his power. Fudge knows that Dumbledore is much cleverer than he is, and a far more powerful wizard. He knows he'd never have got the Minister's job if Dumbledore had wanted it back then. If people accept that Voldemort's back, half the Wizarding community is going to be demanding that Fudge resign and Dumbledore take over the Ministry. Not that he would; they're more likely to replace Fudge with Amelia Bones."

"Who's Amelia Bones?" Harry asked.

"She's head of Magical Law Enforcement," said Lupin. "She was an Auror during the last war, and a damned good one, almost as tough as Mad-Eye Moody."

"Her niece is in our year at Hogwarts," Hermione added. "Susan Bones, in Hufflepuff."

"Oh yes, I remember her. So Fudge is still denying Voldemort's back. Aren't you doing anything to get the word out?"

"Well," said Sirius, "I'm not exactly in a position to go handing out fliers while the Ministry's got a ten thousand Galleon price on my head."

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest since it got around that I'm a werewolf," Lupin added.

"And Dad would lose his job at the Ministry if Fudge heard that he'd been talking about You-Know-Who," said Ron. "He's on thin ice as it is, just because he's fond of Muggles and close to Dumbledore. Bill's been talking to some of the goblins at Gringotts – they're not too pleased with the Ministry after that Bagman business – but he has to keep it pretty quiet too. I think Charlie's working on making contacts in Romania. Percy…" Ron made an unhappy face. "Percy's not in the Order. Fudge promoted him to Junior Assistant to the Minister, and it's really gone to his head. He's completely swallowed the official line. He and Dad had a flaming row about it, and then he moved up to London and hasn't spoken to Mum or Dad since."

"_What?_" Harry exclaimed, completely shocked.

"It's awful," Hermione added. "Mrs. Weasley starts crying every time someone mentions his name. He said the only evidence that You-Know-Who is back is your word, and apparently that's not good enough for him."

"Why?" Harry asked. "What's he got against me?"

"He takes the _Daily Prophet_ seriously," Hermione said.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd been reading it?"

"Not cover to cover," Harry admitted. "I mean, when people accept that Voldemort's back it's going to be front page news, isn't it?"

"Of course," she said. "But… they've been having a go at you two or three times a week for the last month. Nothing big, just snide little comments dropped into other stories, like a sort of standing joke. They're building on all that awful rubbish Rita wrote about you last year."

"But she's not writing for them anymore, is she?"

"Oh, no. I made sure of that. But she laid the groundwork, saying all that stuff about you fainting all over the place and saying your scar hurt. Now whenever some really strange, far-fetched story turns up, they'll say something like, 'A tale worthy of Harry Potter.' Fudge is behind it, I'm sure. They're trying to make certain that nobody will believe you."

"I always knew Fudge was a bit of a duffer, but I never would have guessed he could act like this."

"Nor I," said Lupin. "I don't think any of us realized quite how low that man could sink."

Harry shook his head. "So isn't _anybody_ trying to get the word out?"

"Dumbledore is," Sirius said. "He made a speech to the International Confederation of Wizards announcing Voldemort's return. Fudge's lot voted him out of the Chairmanship, and got him demoted from Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot – that's the wizards' High Court. The official line there is that he's going senile, losing his grip."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "So do you have any idea what Voldemort's doing?"

"Right now, we think he's just trying to recruit more followers, building up his strength," Lupin replied. "He knows how to operate in secret – lies, blackmail, the Imperius curse – it's what he does best. We're trying to hinder him as much as we can – keeping tabs on known Death Eaters, and doing some quiet recruiting of our own. We're much better prepared for him this time around, thanks to you. Last time the Death Eaters had the Order outnumbered about twenty to one; they were just killing us off, one by one, until Voldemort went after you and… well, you know what happened. This time, we've got them outnumbered."

"Well, that's something," Harry said. "So do I get to join the Order?"

"I'm afraid not, Harry," Sirius said. "If it were up to me… but it's not. Membership is limited to wizards who are of age and out of school. Dumbledore's very firm on that point."

"They won't let us into any of their meetings," Ron added. "All we get to do is help Mum get headquarters cleaned out and fit to live in."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"The Order's headquarters is… well, we really _can't_ tell you where it is, only Dumbledore can do that. It's protected by the Fidelius Charm, and he's the Secret-Keeper. But anyway, it's been abandoned for quite a few years, and all sorts of things have moved into it. Doxies and boggarts and ghouls and things…."

Sirius sighed. "What Hermione is politely not mentioning is that it's my family's old mansion," he explained. "Nobody's lived there since my late, unlamented mother died, about ten years ago."

"Why 'unlamented?'" Harry asked.

"I'm sorry to say that most of my family have been pure-blood fanatics and up to their eyebrows in the Dark Arts; my mother was one of the worst of them. She never forgave me for being sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin, like a proper Black. My parents eventually disowned me, after I got sick of them and ran away from home."

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen. Your father's parents took me in, and I stayed at their house during holidays until I finished school, then got a place of my own. I had a good bit of gold my Uncle Alphard left me – he wasn't a 'proper' Black, either. I never spoke to my parents again."

"Oh. I… I'm sorry, Sirius."

"I'm not," Sirius replied. "I thought I was well shut of them, and their house… but unfortunately, it's the best possible place for the Order to make its headquarters. It has more protective magic on it than almost any other building in Britain, except Hogwarts and Gringotts. Anyway, since the Ministry still has a price on my head, I can't show my face anywhere, and since Wormtail will have told Voldemort that I'm an Animagus, that disguise isn't safe, either. So I've been cooped up at headquarters for the last month. I hate being in that house again," he finished moodily.

"I can imagine," said Harry sympathetically. "If I had to go back and live in Privet Drive after I finished with school, I think I'd go mad." He decided that a change of subject was in order. "This is a Quidditch pitch," he observed, looking around the field. "But it looks abandoned. Doesn't anyone play here?"

"The Wortlethorpe Warblers used to play here," Hermione said. "They were the only all-Muggle-born Quidditch team in Britain. Their Keeper and Seeker were a married couple, Ian and Barbara Chesterton. They…." She hesitated, then continued, "They were murdered by Death Eaters a few months before your parents, Harry. The rest of the team split up and went elsewhere; this field hasn't been used since."

"Oh," said Harry. The vague sense of sadness he'd felt about the place seemed more pronounced now. "Well… I hope they'd be pleased that this place is being used in the fight against Voldemort now."

"We like to think so," Sirius said. "They'd only just joined the Order when they were killed. I never got to know them very well, but they were both great flyers; Barbara was the reserve Seeker for the English World Cup team the year before they died."

"That's sad," Harry said. He paused, thoughtfully. "I hate Voldemort for murdering my parents, but he killed dozens of other people before them, didn't he? He's killed at least three since he came back, too. All those people have relatives or friends who miss them, just like I miss my parents. Like poor Cedric's mum and dad…."

_And Cho,_ he thought. Cho Chang, the lovely Chinese girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, had caught the eyes of both Harry and the Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory. Cedric, two years older, bright, handsome, and far more self-assured than Harry, had won her heart before Harry had even found the nerve to ask her out. Worse, he was so nice that Harry couldn't even sustain jealous dislike; he'd had to admit to himself that Cedric was worthy of her affection. Then Cedric had died, murdered before Harry's eyes by Voldemort's henchman. He still had nightmares about Cedric's death… what must it be like for Cho?

"Harry?" Hermione's questioning tone brought him abruptly back to the present.

"Oh, sorry, I was just, er, thinking about something," he stammered. "So, what are we going to do now?"

"Well," said Ron, "the reason we came here, instead of straight to the Order's headquarters, is that Sirius managed to persuade Dumbledore to give the four of us a day off, so we could give you a proper birthday party. Seeing as you've never had one before."

"That's… wow, I don't know what to say! Thanks, all of you."

"You're welcome, Harry," Sirius said. "The truth is, we were all happy for the excuse to get out of headquarters. It's… well, you'll understand better when you see it. It's not really the right sort of place for a party."

"Worse than an abandoned Quidditch pitch where two of the team were murdered?" Harry asked skeptically.

"They weren't actually killed here," Hermione said. "And yes, this is a lot nicer than headquarters. It's a bit hard to explain. Better to wait until you see it, like Sirius said."

"All right. What kind of party did you have in mind?"

"Well," said Ron, "we've packed a picnic lunch, but it's a bit early to start eating. If you're up for it, I thought we might have a game of two-on-two Quidditch first. Hermione's agreed to referee, and we've got all our brooms and a full set of balls right over there." He pointed to the nearest stand, where Harry could see two largish boxes at the base of the stand, and four broomsticks leaning against it.

Harry brightened. "Now that," he said, "is the best idea I've heard in a month. You're on."

They trooped over to the side of the field. Ron's Cleansweep Five was there, along with Ginny Weasley's Comet Two Thirty, which Hermione had borrowed. Sirius had an ancient but still serviceable Silver Arrow, and Lupin a rather battered old Nimbus Excelsior, distant forerunner to the Nimbus Two Thousand Harry had ridden in his first two years at Hogwarts. Harry saw that the bigger of the two boxes was a wicker picnic hamper, while the other was the suitcase-like affair used to transport the four balls used in Quidditch. Ron opened the latter box and pulled out the largest ball. "Since there's only four of us playing, I think we'll just use the Quaffle, at least to begin with," he said. "First team to score ten goals wins, all right?"

"How shall we split up?" Harry asked.

"We'll play three matches," Sirius said. "That way you can team with each of us once. Let's start with youth versus age."

"You're on," said Ron. They all mounted their brooms. Harry and Ron squared off against Sirius and Lupin fifty feet above the center of the field; Hermione flew above them and dropped the Quaffle into the center of their group, and the game was on.

With no Keepers to guard the rings or Bludgers to distract the players, the three rounds flew by in less than an hour. Harry's teams won every round, thanks to his exceptional flying skills and his Firebolt's crushing advantages in speed and maneuverability over all three of the others' brooms. After he and Lupin trounced Ron and Sirius by ten goals to three in the third round, he suggested that a three-on-one match might prove more even. The others agreed, and he spent another enjoyable half-hour weaving in and out between his friends' brooms, finally winning ten to nine.

"Good game, Harry!" Sirius called, as they all spiraled down to land on the grass.

"Thanks," Harry called back. "Hey, Ron," he added, as Ron landed beside him. "That last interception you made was bloody amazing! Have you thought of trying out for Keeper, now that Oliver Wood's left?"

Ron frowned. "Maybe if I had a decent broomstick," he said. "I _have_ had a lot of practice; Charlie, Fred and George always made me Keep for them when they were training at home."

Hermione and Lupin had opened the picnic hamper and spread a blanket on the ground. As the others joined them, they handed out thermoses of iced pumpkin juice and paper-wrapped sandwiches.

As they sat down to eat, an exceedingly odd animal sauntered out of the woods and came to join them. It had the hindquarters of a horse, and the head, wings, and front legs of an enormous eagle. Its feathers and fur were a shimmering silver-gray, and it carried a dead rabbit in its wickedly curved beak.

"Buckbeak!" Harry exclaimed. "You didn't tell me you'd brought him along, Sirius." He stood up and faced the hippogriff, gazing steadily into its sharp, brilliant orange eyes, then bowed low. Buckbeak watched him for a moment, then bent his scaly knees in return.

"He needed fresh air even more than I did," Sirius replied, as Harry walked up to the hippogriff and began stroking the feathers along his neck. Buckbeak closed his eyes and stretched, clearly enjoying the attention. "I let him off his tether before we went to pick you up, so that he could hunt up something to eat."

"Wasn't that a bit dangerous?" asked Harry. "I mean, what if he'd been seen?"

"He knows not to stray too far," Sirius said. "Buckbeak's smarter than some people I could name."

"Goyle," said Ron, grinning.

Harry snorted. "I was thinking Cornelius Fudge," he said.

Sirius tethered Buckbeak to the framework of the stand beside them, and he settled down to eat his rabbit, as the rest of them tucked into their sandwiches.

They spent the first part of lunch discussing Quidditch. After they'd demolished the sandwiches and thoroughly dissected the four matches they'd just played, Ron brought out a copy of the latest edition of _Which Broomstick?_ to show to Harry. "Take a look at the new Nimbus Hyperion," he said. "They're marketing it to the smaller countries' World Cup teams, the ones that can't afford Firebolts. It should make the competition a bit more even next year."

"Nice," said Harry, admiring the picture before turning the page to read the review of the new broom. "Let's see, teak handle, aspen twigs for the tail, anti-jinx polish… pretty good acceleration, though it'll only keep up with the Firebolt in a dive. It's not as well-balanced, either."

"It's got the same Braking Charm, though," said Ron. "So you can follow a Firebolt through a Wronski Feint without crashing, if you're good enough. The turning radius isn't so good – no better than the Two Thousand and One, actually – but it sideslips even faster than the Firebolt, which partly makes up for that. And it's a lot cheaper; you can outfit a whole team with these for the price of a couple of Firebolts."

"I just hope Malfoy's father doesn't do exactly that," Harry said. "You remember how he bought Draco's way onto the team…."

"Lucius Malfoy has other things to buy with his gold these days," muttered Sirius darkly. "Like Ministry officials."

"Even if he does, we'll still have better players than they do," said Ron, determinedly ignoring Sirius's gloom. "Speaking of which, who do you reckon will be the new Gryffindor Captain, Harry?"

"Angelina, I expect," replied Harry. "She's been on the team longest, and she usually helped Wood put together our game plans."

"What I'm wondering is who they're going to make prefects this year," said Hermione thoughtfully. "It's our fifth year, so they'll be picking one boy and one girl from each of the Houses."

"Blimey," said Ron, "I'd completely forgotten about that." He scratched his head, then said, "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? It's got to be you and Harry for Gryffindor."

Hermione blushed. "Oh, I don't know. I suppose Harry's a shoo-in, but…."

"Now, Hermione, don't come over all modest on us," Harry said, grinning at her. "I mean, they can't pick Parvati or Lavender over you, can they?"

"Well," she admitted, "I suppose they are a bit… well…."

"Silly?" Ron suggested. "Giggly? Flighty? Irresponsible?"

"All of the above," said Harry. "I'm not so sure about me, though," he added thoughtfully. "I mean, prefects are supposed to enforce school rules, and I've broken more than a few of them…."

"Your father and I were never made prefects," Sirius put in. "We spent far too much time in detention. Moony here was the responsible one, so he got the badge."

"I think Professor McGonagall was hoping I could, ah, restrain my friends' enthusiasm a bit," said Lupin wryly. "Needless to say, I failed miserably."

"Doesn't the Headmaster choose the prefects?" asked Hermione.

"He makes the final decision, but he almost always accepts whoever the Head of each House recommends," Lupin explained.

"Ah, well, that does for you and me, mate," Ron said to Harry. "McGonagall's never going to recommend either of us. I mean, most of the times you've gotten into trouble, I've been right in it with you."

"She'll probably give it to Seamus," Harry agreed. "He's pretty good at keeping his nose clean."

"Or Dean," said Ron. "I can't see them making Neville a prefect…."

Harry was suddenly struck by an unpleasant thought. "I just hope at least one of the three of us is chosen," he said. "Because you know who Snape's going to recommend…."

Ron looked thunderstruck. "Malfoy! Oh, bloody hell, I'll bet you're right! He's going to be insufferable…."

"Well, if he is, we'll just have to put up with him," said Hermione reasonably. "Any punishments a prefect hands out can be cancelled by a teacher, so if Malfoy does something really unreasonable, you can always ask McGonagall to overrule him."

"That's a point," said Ron, sounding relieved. "Who knows – if he pushes it too far, he might lose his badge."

"Anyway," said Hermione, "we don't know that he'll be chosen; he's not exactly the best at following rules, either. They might give it to that Theodore Nott instead, he's a lot less of a trouble-maker."

"I doubt he'd be much better, though," said Harry gloomily. "His Dad's a Death Eater, just like Malfoy's and Crabbe's and Goyle's."

"He was a bad one," Lupin said grimly. "We were never able to prove it, but we're all but certain he was one of the ones that murdered Edgar Bones and his family."

Sirius shuddered. "I remember that. Edgar was Amelia Bones's brother, Harry, and a great Auror himself. The Death Eaters that broke into his house Stunned him and his wife, then tied them up along with their three children and burned the house down around them. The youngest daughter was only seven years old…."

Harry's insides seemed to have tied themselves in knots. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, who had both gone rather pale. "Sirius, do you think we could talk about something else?" he asked.

His godfather was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said earnestly. "I didn't mean to ruin anyone's appetite. Especially since we still have this…." He reached into the picnic hamper and lifted out a smaller box, which he set down in the center of the blanket. Then he opened the lid off to reveal a rich chocolate cake, with the Gryffindor Lion and "Happy Birthday, Harry!" picked out in red and gold frosting on the top, along with fifteen candles. He lifted out the plate with the cake on it and set it in the middle of the blanket, then waved his wand over the candles. "_Incendio._"

All fifteen candles lit instantly. "Make a wish, Harry," Sirius said.

"I'm not sure what to wish for," he said.

"Wish for You-Know-Who's defeat," Ron suggested.

Hermione shook her head. "We all wish that, Ron," she said. "A birthday wish should be something personal, just for Harry." She smiled at Harry. "And you can't tell us what it is, Harry, or it won't come true."

Harry thought about it for a moment, and the first wish that came to mind was, _I wish Cho would go out with me._ He inhaled deeply, then blew out all the candles in one breath.

Sirius cut the cake into five slices and passed them around. After they had eaten it, he said, "Well, now there's just one more thing we need to make this a proper birthday party."

Reaching once more into the picnic hamper, he pulled out a small, brightly wrapped package. "Once again, happy birthday, Harry."

"Thank you!" Harry said. He tore away the wrapping. Inside was a small, square mirror. It looked quite old, though it had clearly been polished recently – there were quite a few scratches on the simple wooden frame. He held it up. Unlike most wizard mirrors he'd seen, in this one his reflection was simply a reflection; it didn't talk to him or move of its own accord. "What does it do?" Harry asked, certain his godfather would not have given him an ordinary mirror.

"It's a two-way mirror," Sirius replied. "It's a way for you to talk to me anytime you want." He pulled an identical mirror from a pocket of his robes. "All you have to do is hold it and say my name. James and I used to use them when we had separate detentions."

Lupin laughed. "Or when one of you was watching out for Filch while the other one set up some prank," he added.

Sirius grinned at him. "That too. By the way, Moony, Molly asked me to remind you…."

Lupin nodded. "I hadn't forgotten, but thanks all the same; better safe than sorry." He took a small flask from his pocket and flipped off the cap. Whatever was in it steamed slightly; Lupin grimaced as he raised it to his lips and gulped down the contents.

"That's right," said Hermione, "it's a full moon tonight."

"Indeed it is," Lupin agreed. "And we wouldn't want things to get out of hand…."

Harry shivered, recalling his single encounter with Lupin in his werewolf form. He'd forgotten to take the Wolfsbane Potion that prevented his lycanthropy from overwhelming his human mind, and the results had been a catastrophe. Wormtail had escaped to rejoin Lord Voldemort and begin the plot that had restored the Dark Lord to his physical body and powers, Lupin's secret was revealed and he was sacked from Hogwarts, and Sirius had to go into hiding, their one chance to prove his innocence lost. The only mercy was that Lupin hadn't bitten anybody.

While they were talking, Ron had retrieved three more packages from the hamper. "This is from me," he said, as he handed them one at a time to Harry, "this is Lupin's, and this is Hermione's. Happy birthday, Harry."

Ron's package was flat and rectangular; the contents shifted slightly as Harry accepted it. "Bet I know what this is," he commented, tearing off the wrapping. As he expected, under the wrapping was a white cardboard box with "Honeydukes" written across the top in fancy gold script. "Thanks a lot, Ron. Dudley's still on his diet, so I've been living on cottage cheese and salad for the last month. I've been dreaming about Honeydukes chocolate. I think I'll save this for later, though, it seems like a bit much on top of that cake."

"No problem, mate. Here, let's see the others."

Harry was already opening Hermione's gift. It proved to be a chess set. Opening the inlaid-wood box, Harry saw that instead of the standard stylized chessmen, each piece was an exquisitely detailed figurine of alabaster or bloodstone. The white rooks were tiny models of the Hogwarts castle, the black ones a smaller castle with very high towers and steep roofs. The white pawns looked like Gringotts goblins, the black ones were clearly trolls, and the knights were centaurs and dragons, respectively. The bishops, queens, and kings were human, and looking closely he realized that the white king was Albus Dumbledore.

"This is amazing, Hermione! Thank you. Where did you find it?"

"Diagon Alley, of course. Davison's Dice and Diversions just put it out this month, in honor of the fiftieth anniversary of Dumbledore's victory over Grindelwald. I think it's their quiet little way of supporting Dumbledore, now that the Ministry's trying to discredit him."

"I suppose the black king is Grindelwald, then?" Harry asked. He looked more closely at the tall, aristocratically handsome wizard. The black queen beside him was a rapier-slim witch with a face of cold perfection.

"Of course," Hermione replied. "One of the white bishops is Alastor Moody, back when he was young and not so covered in scars. The white queen is Millicent Bagnold – she was a senior Auror then, and Minister of Magic later on – and the black one is Grindelwald's lieutenant, Silke von Drachenskrieg. She disappeared after Grindelwald fell, but she's thought to be one of the ones who taught the Dark Arts to You-Know-Who. I think the black castle is Durmstrang; Grindelwald taught there before he became the German Minister of Magic."

"It's the best set I've ever seen," Harry said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Harry."

Harry picked up Lupin's gift, a broad, flat, rectangular package. "Feels like a book," he commented, as he began peeling off the wrapping. Sure enough, inside the wrapping was a volume entitled _The Combatant's Companion: A Concise Compendium of Common Curses and Counterspells,_ by Constance Crumb.

"Professor Dumbledore hasn't found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher yet," Lupin explained. "I thought that if you got stuck with another Lockhart, at least you'll be able to learn something this year."

Harry opened the book and flipped through it. For each of the spells described, it had detailed, moving illustrations of its casting and effects. "This is terrific, Professor," said Harry earnestly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Harry. I'm glad you like it."

"On that note," said Sirius, "now that we've eaten and Harry's opened his gifts, who's up for a bit of dueling practice?"

"Sounds good to me," Harry said.

"I'm game," agreed Ron.

"Sure, why not?" said Hermione. "It's more practical than watching Harry beat you all at Quidditch, anyway."

An hour of practice duels, switching opponents every few minutes, established that Harry's superior reflexes were not limited to Quidditch; he succeeded in Disarming, Stunning, or jinxing Ron and Hermione nine times out of ten, and even Sirius and Lupin only got the better of him in about a third of their duels.

"You know, Harry," said Sirius as he fetched his wand after Harry disarmed him for the seventeenth time, "you may be the best natural duelist I've ever met."

"Well, he is the best in our year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione pointed out.

"What? No I'm not, you always out-score me on exams!"

"Not third year," she said. "Which, if you'll recall, was the only year we both sat the exam and had a competent professor around to administer it." She smiled at Lupin.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Lupin. "I can't claim too much credit, though; students like you make any professor look good. But she is right, Harry; she got the second highest score in my class. The highest was yours."

"And that's not to mention that you managed to survive a duel with You-Know-Who last month," Ron added.

"That was luck!" Harry protested. "I only survived because of that weird business with our wands connecting."

"Which couldn't have happened if you hadn't been very quick with your Disarming Charm," said Sirius. "Not many adult wizards, even Aurors, have the reflexes to match spells with Voldemort. But that's not the half of it. You threw off his Imperius Curse in less than a minute, Harry. It took Barty Crouch _pére_ months to do that, and Alastor Moody never managed it at all, even though it was Crouch _fils_ controlling him, not Voldemort himself. Old Crouch and Moody were two of the most powerful Aurors of our time. And then, when your wands linked, _you_ forced the Reverse Spell effect out of _his_ wand. Maybe he still hadn't recovered his full strength, but all the same, I doubt there's another wizard in the world, apart from Dumbledore, who could have won a straight magical shoving match like that with Voldemort. That day, at that hour, you were stronger than he was."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Come on, you're joking, right? I mean, what about the difference in spells? He was casting _Avada Kedavra,_ all I was trying for was _Expelliarmus._ Maybe it's like… like pushing a weight up a hill. He had a much heavier weight to push, that's all."

"That could be part of it," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I tried to look it up, but that situation – wizards dueling with wands from the same magical creature – is so rare that there's hardly anything about it in the library. What you said about weights does make sense, though."

"Exactly," said Harry. "I was lucky, that's all."

"Oh, there's no doubt you were," Sirius agreed. "But you had to be very, very good to make use of your luck."

"Maybe so," Harry said, eager to be done with the argument. "Anyway, what are we going to do now?"

"I've got an idea," said Lupin. "Have you ever tried dueling on brooms?"

"No," said Harry. "It sounds kind of dangerous."

"It can be, but if you practice with proper precautions it's no more dangerous than Quidditch," said Sirius.

"Oh, there's a comfort," Hermione muttered sarcastically. Quidditch was still a very dangerous contact sport that frequently sent players to hospital.

"You don't use any offensive spells when practicing against other wizards," Sirius went on, "only wand sparks and the Shield Charm – even _Expelliarmus_ can knock someone off a broom. If you want to practice combat spells, you can use a Bludger as a practice opponent. I expect you'll be good at it, Harry; after all, it combines the two things you do best."

They all mounted their brooms once again. Harry and Sirius moved to one end of the field, Lupin, Ron, and Hermione to the other. "Ready, Harry?" Sirius called, as they squared off at a distance of about thirty feet.

"Try me," Harry replied, grinning. Sirius made a diagonal slashing motion with his wand, and a spray of red sparks shot toward Harry. Harry dodged, and sent a jet of blue sparks back at Sirius, then had to dodge again as Sirius's Shield Charm reflected the sparks back at him. Sirius charged, and Harry spun his broom around and shot away from him, firing more sparks over his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw that a few of them had found their mark. The wand sparks were harmless, but they remained stuck on whatever they hit for a few minutes before fading away.

They chased each other around the pitch for a while, then met up with Ron, Hermione, and Lupin in the middle. "Now that you all have the idea," Lupin said, "Let's try working as teams. Having to avoid hitting your friends makes things a lot more interesting."

"All right," said Ron, grinning. "Let's make it a game of Aurors and Death Eaters – the three of us vs. the two of you."

Sirius gave a bark of laughter. "I like that! Youth and enthusiasm against age and experience. All right, Lupin and I will be the bad guys; we'll use green sparks, you three use red. We can keep score if you like – score a point each time you hit someone on the other team, lose one any time you hit one of your own teammates. We start from the goal posts and meet in the middle."

"Sounds good to me," said Harry. "Let's go."

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	3. Chapter 2: Consternation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Consternation**

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore –

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

--"The Raven," by Edgar Allan Poe

They all mounted their brooms again, and the two teams flew to opposite ends of the field. "Right," said Harry to Ron and Hermione. "When we get close, let's split up. Ron, you break left; Hermione, break right, and I'll go straight into them. You try to outflank them."

"Okay, Harry," Hermione replied nervously. Despite her ability at spells and potions, she hated flying and seldom went near a broom if she could help it. "Watch yourself."

Harry grinned at her. "Care to bet that I can't fly right between them without taking a single hit? Sirius and Lupin are good, but those brooms they're riding are obsolete."

"I'll put a Sickle on that," said Ron.

"So will I," Hermione agreed. "I think you might be getting just a bit overconfident, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "We'll soon find out." Sirius waved at them from the far end of the pitch; then he and Lupin leaned forward on their brooms and came racing up the field. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed to meet them. As the distance closed, Ron and Hermione split off to either side of Harry. Harry pulled into a tight corkscrew roll, making it nearly impossible for Sirius or Lupin to hit him as he accelerated toward them. When he was nearly on top of them, he shouted, "_Protego!_" Those green sparks that might have hit him bounced back at his opponents as he shot through the gap between them. However, just when he thought he'd made it through unscathed, he felt a warm, tingling sensation behind his left shoulder, and knew that at least one spark had found its mark.

He spun his broom around just in time to see Ron and Hermione complete their pincer movement, whipping around the stands and rocketing in from opposite sides of the pitch. Ron tagged Lupin on the right arm as he raised his wand to fire more sparks at Harry, and Hermione, coming up a moment later from the other direction, caught Sirius in the back of the head with a fountain of sparks as he turned to face Ron, so that his shaggy black hair appeared full of red fireflies. Ron then pulled back on his broom and soared into a spiraling, near-vertical climb, hotly pursued by Sirius, while Hermione dove for the ground, firing more sparks over her shoulder so that Lupin, following hard on her tail, had to dodge and weave like mad.

Harry shot upward after Sirius and Ron; his Firebolt's superior acceleration was especially obvious when flying straight up. As he overtook the Silver Arrow, he made two quick diagonal slashes with his wand, marking the back of Sirius's robes with a large, glowing red "X." As Sirius broke off his pursuit of Ron to confront the new threat, Harry flipped his broom over and dived like a falcon, hunting for Lupin and Hermione.

It didn't take long to spot them. Hermione was weaving in and out between the stands, trying to shake Lupin off; a scattering of Lupin's green sparks glowed on the back of her t-shirt, showing that she hadn't been entirely successful at dodging. Lupin, concentrating on the chase, did not notice Harry pulling out of his power dive just above and behind him until a flick of Harry's wand left him wearing a halo of red sparks. Then, with an instinct honed by many hours spent dodging Bludgers, Harry jinked sharply upward – just in time to see a spray of green sparks from Sirius pass under him and catch Lupin on the shoulder. "Nice move, Harry!" Sirius shouted, whipping around to chase after him.

"Catch me if you can!" Harry shouted back as he pulled into a vertical loop, trying to get behind Sirius. He had thought that nothing could ever match the sheer delight of Quidditch, but this aerial duel, testing his skills with both broomstick and wand, was as exhilarating as any match he'd ever played.

They kept at it, dodging and weaving, now soaring high above the goal posts, now skimming over the ground with their feet brushing the grass, whooping with laughter whenever one or another of them caught a spray of red or green sparks. It was nearly two hours before Sirius called a halt.

They landed by the blanket where they'd eaten lunch, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione began talking animatedly about the new game while Sirius and Lupin packed up the picnic hamper. "You were right about me getting a bit overconfident," Harry admitted after a few minutes spent recapping the highlights of their airborne scrimmage. "I guess I owe you each a Sickle. You'll have to wait until I've had a chance to visit my Gringotts vault, though, I don't have any wizard money on hand."

"That's all right, Harry, we know you're good for it," Ron assured him.

At that moment an owl came swooping out of the woods and dropped a letter on the ground at Lupin's feet. He stooped to pick it up. "It's from headquarters," he said, "Let's see," said Sirius. He had just finished untethering Buckbeak. The hippogriff had tucked his head under his wing and gone to sleep immediately after finishing his rabbit, and was just now waking up.

Lupin tore open the envelope, and the two men put their heads together to read the parchment inside. As they read, a series of expressions passed over their faces: shock, grim frowns, and finally bafflement.

"What is it?" Harry asked. "What's going on?"

"It doesn't make sense," replied Sirius, in a puzzled tone. "There've been over two dozen incidents all over the south of England in the last couple of hours – lone Muggles being scared silly by illusory monsters or hit with Stunning Spells, intruders testing the wards on various wizards' houses – all supporters of Dumbledore, of course – but nothing more serious. By the time anyone responds, the ones doing it are long gone. At least some of them are Death Eaters, because several of them have sent up the Dark Mark before Disapparating. But so far they haven't actually attacked anyone. What are they playing at?"

"Maybe they're probing," said Lupin. "Trying to see how quickly we respond and in what strength."

"That could be it," Sirius agreed. "Or maybe they want to draw some of us into an ambush, or just get us spread out all over the countryside so we won't be ready when they do something more serious. Do you suppose they could be planning to go after Harry?"

"Well," said Harry, "if they're expecting to find me in Privet Drive, they're in for a bit of a disappointment."

"And if they turn up here, they're in for a hell of a fight," said Sirius grimly. "Not that that's likely. This field is hidden by the Fidelius Charm; nobody can get in unless Dumbledore tells them where it is or makes them a Portkey."

"You know, they might be trying to make the Order look bad," Hermione suggested. "I mean, imagine what those idiots at the Ministry are going to think if a whole bunch of wizards who support Dumbledore make calls for help that end up looking like false alarms. Even if the Dark Mark is there, Fudge will probably blame our people for it."

"Like the little boy who cried 'wolf,'" Harry muttered.

"What, is that like a Muggle version of the little witch who cried 'troll?'" Ron asked, momentarily distracted.

Just then, another large bird swooped low overhead and dropped a small, rectangular package at Harry's feet. "Keep back, Harry!" Sirius said sharply. "That wasn't an owl, it was a raven – which means whoever sent it is almost certainly a Dark wizard." He approached the package cautiously and pointed his wand at it. After several muttered incantations had had no visible effect, he appeared satisfied. "It seems safe enough," he said, picking it up. "It's not cursed, and it's not an active Portkey, though it could be a timed one. Look, there's an envelope spellotaped to the outside. It's addressed to you."

Harry took the package from Sirius and opened the envelope; inside was a sheet of parchment, covered in a spidery scrawl.

_Greetings, Harry Potter_

_I hope you have been enjoying your fifteenth birthday so far, as I expect it will be your last. I understand that you fancy yourself quite an accomplished duelist, since your miraculous survival against my Master, a wizard infinitely greater than yourself. If you feel your success was other than a fluke, I invite you to prove it: meet me in a duel of magic, and see how you fare when your wand is matched against one other than its twin._

_Inside the package you hold in your hands, I have provided both the means for you to meet my challenge, and a compelling reason why you should do so. You see, I currently have a guest staying with me, a young lady who is most anxious to witness our duel. You will be fighting as her champion. Should you fail to appear, she will be most painfully disappointed._

Ron was reading over his shoulder. "Who could they mean? Hermione's here with us… oh no! Ginny!" Harry glanced at his friend and saw that he'd gone deathly pale under his freckles.

"It can't be," said Harry, with more conviction than he felt. "You told me she was with your parents at this mysterious headquarters of yours. They couldn't have just walked in there and taken her, could they?"

"I wouldn't think so, but… oh, go on Harry, open it!"

Harry tore off the wrapping with trembling fingers. Inside was a framed wizard photograph, about five inches by seven, of a girl tied to a chair. She was slumped forward, a curtain of hair obscuring her face – hair blacker than Harry's own, not Ginny's bright red. Relief fought confusion in Harry's mind as he stared at the picture, trying to figure out who the girl was. Her clothes – a plain black scoop-necked t-shirt and cut-off shorts – gave him no clues. Then she looked up, and he felt his blood run cold.

It was Cho Chang. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her dark eyes red and puffy from crying, but her face was unmistakable – the face that had smiled at him in his daydreams for more than a year. She had been in tears the last time he had seen her, too, grieving for Cedric. Now, though, her features were marred by something worse than grief: terror. Her eyes widened and she shook her head frantically as a black-gloved hand extended a wand into the picture from outside the frame. Then they widened further, and every muscle in her body seemed to tense at once. Her head jerked back and she strained against her bonds, her mouth opening in a silent scream of agony.

Harry's insides seemed to tie themselves in knots as he realized what spell the unseen kidnapper must have used. He vividly recalled his own agonizing experience of the Cruciatus Curse, when Lord Voldemort had used it to torture him before the assembled Death Eaters. "Cho…" he whispered brokenly. "Please, no, let this be a just a bad dream…." As he watched, the gloved hand moved out of the frame again, and Cho slumped back down in the chair, visibly trembling from the after-effects of the curse.

"Merlin's beard," whispered Sirius, looking over Harry's shoulder. "Do you know that girl, Harry?"

"Yes," he said. "She plays Seeker on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and she's – that is, she was – Cedric's girlfriend." He paused, then added, "I asked her to the Yule Ball, but Cedric had asked her first. I didn't think anyone knew outside of Hogwarts. How could this happen…?"

"We'll work that out later," said Sirius. "Right now we need to decide what to do about it. Take a look at the back of that picture, it looks like there's another envelope there."

Sirius was right; a second envelope was taped to the back of the picture frame. Inside was a second parchment, with the same cramped handwriting; the others crowded around to read it over Harry's shoulders.

_This is but a small taste of what Miss Chang will suffer if you do not meet my challenge. The picture frame is a Portkey. Hold it in your hands at sunset, and it will carry you to me. If you wish her to live, you must come alone. Forfeit the duel and you forfeit her life - and her death will be neither quick nor painless. She will suffer the Cruciatus Curse until her mind is broken before I take her life._

_I look forward to meeting you again, Harry Potter._

_--M._

"M?" Harry muttered, his voice thick with anger. "Pettigrew doesn't begin with an M, nor Wormtail… oh. Malfoy."

Ron nodded. "A Sickle gets you a Galleon that's who it is. Trust old Lucius to do his Master's bidding and give a little bonus to Draco at the same time. Cho was always the better Seeker."

"Damn," said Lupin. "This only gives us about four hours. I don't think that's going to be enough time to get reinforcements, what with our people scattered from Kent to Cornwall responding to all those probing attacks. Looks like you were right about the diversion, Sirius. We'd better get to work on this Portkey… I'll just need a few things from headquarters…." and with that, he Disapparated; there was a loud "BANG!" like a small clap of thunder as air rushed into the space where he had stood.

"What did he mean?" Harry asked.

"There's a way of finding out exactly where a Portkey is supposed to take you; it even works on our Untraceables, if you actually have the key in your hand. You'll see. Once we know where they are, we can work out what to do next."

Lupin Apparated again within a few minutes, carrying an enormous book bound in black leather, with "Mulciber's Magical Atlas of the World" embossed in gold on the cover. He had also changed from his old khaki suit into an even more disreputable set of wizard's robes, with numerous patches and extra pockets sewn into them. "Here we are," he said, setting the book on the blanket and opening it to a full-page map of the British Isles. "We'll start by assuming that they're still somewhere in Britain; if we can't find them here, we'll take a look at the Continent, then the rest of the world. Let me see that, please, Harry."

Harry handed him the photograph. He reached into a pocket of his robes and brought out what appeared to be a small quartz crystal suspended on a leather thong. After touching the crystal briefly to the frame, he wrapped the thong around his hand, holding the crystal over the map. "_Locatus,_" he said, and opened his hand, letting the crystal swing freely above the map.

It hung there for a moment, swaying gently, then swung to point at western Scotland. Lupin lowered his hand until the tip of the crystal touched the map. "Argyllshire," he muttered. Instantly, the pages of the book flipped until it was on a more detailed map of the Scottish counties of Argyll and Bute. Once again, the crystal swayed over the center of the map, then moved to point, this time near its eastern edge. Now, however, instead of pointing firmly, it continued to move, spinning in small, tight circles even when Lupin lowered it to touch the map.

"Damn," he said again. "It's Unplottable. I can pin it down to a twenty mile circle northwest of Loch Lomond, but no closer than that. The one thing you can be sure of is it won't be exactly in the center of that circle."

"So we won't be able to Apparate," Sirius said. "We'd never find it in time. We'll just have to use their Portkey."

"But that would drop you right into whatever trap they've set for Harry!" Ron objected. "You wouldn't stand a chance!"

Sirius smiled slyly. "Not necessarily," he said. "When we were developing the Untraceable Portkeys, we discovered a couple of other jinxes you can use on them. It turns out you can displace a Portkey's endpoint – make it drop you as much as five miles from where it's supposed to. We worked on it until we were able to control the distance and direction fairly precisely. It shouldn't be a problem to make this Portkey take us a mile or so due west of where it was meant to."

The words were almost out of Harry's mouth: "But if I'm not where I'm supposed to be at sunset…" Remus and Sirius seemed to be treating all this as an exercise in strategy and tactics. But Cho's life was at stake!

"You can also displace them in time," added Lupin. "Trigger them earlier or later than they were meant to work. It might be a good idea to get there early," he suggested to Sirius, "wherever _there_ is."

"Good thinking – hit them before they're ready. Now, Harry, I want you, Ron, and Hermione to use the other Untraceable Portkey to go back to headquarters. Wait for us there. If any of the Order show up, tell them what's going on and where we've gone. We're going to have a look around, and if it the odds don't look too bad, we'll try and rescue your friend. If it looks like more than we can handle, we'll Apparate back to headquarters and wait for reinforcements. We'll bring Buckbeak with us; he can be very useful in a fight."

"Hang on a minute—" Harry began, but Sirius cut him off.

"I know what you're about to say, Harry, and the answer is no. I'm sorry, but the whole point of their kidnapping Cho was to lure you into a trap; we are not going to give them what they want."

"I knew there wasn't any point arguing with you about that," Harry said, irritably. That had in fact been his intention, but he wasn't about to admit it. "What I was going to say was that you'd better take my invisibility cloak; it might help." He opened his trunk, dug around the inside for a minute, and pulled out the precious cloak, handing it to his godfather. The fabric looked and felt as though it had been woven from water, or perhaps quicksilver – it shimmered in the bright afternoon sunlight. Once it was put on, though, both cloak and wearer would vanish from sight.

"Good thinking, Harry," Sirius approved. "Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome. Good luck."

"Thanks again. Now stand back, we're going."

Reluctantly, Harry stood well back from Sirius, Lupin, and Buckbeak, with Ron and Hermione beside him. Sirius placed the picture frame on the hippogriff's broad back, just behind his wings, and the two older wizards each placed one hand on it. Then Sirius touched it with his wand and murmured a complicated incantation. Then he tapped it once and said, "_Portus_." Instead of vanishing, however, they continued to stand there.

"That's odd," said Sirius, sounding puzzled. "It should have activated immediately."

"Let me try," said Lupin. He tapped the frame with his wand and repeated, "_Portus!_" Again, nothing happened.

"Could they have made it tamper-proof somehow?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Sirius admitted. "Remus?"

"Let's see…." Lupin drew a parchment scroll from another pocket of his robes, unrolled it, and set it on the ground. It was blank. He set the picture frame on it, pointed his wand at it, and said, "_Elucidate._" A moment later, runes began to appear on the parchment, as if being written by a fast-moving quill. Lupin studied them for a while, then swore softly. "It won't activate for anyone but Harry," he said. "They must have incorporated something of his – hair, blood, something like that – into the frame. How on Earth could they have gotten their hands on it?"

Harry thought about it for a moment, and remembered the potion that had revived Voldemort. "Wormtail's dagger," he said. "It had my blood on it. They must have saved a bit, after I escaped."

Lupin nodded. "That would do it. All right, I suppose you'll have to come along – but as soon as we get there, you're going back, all right?"

"Hang on," said Ron. "You're not leaving us here alone."

"Now look—" Lupin started, but Hermione interrupted him.

"Ron's right," she said. "If Harry goes, we all go. You can send us all back if you like, but we're not going to just stand here and wait."

Lupin looked at Sirius, who shrugged. "Might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg," he said. "I don't think we'll get into any _more_ trouble for bringing them all."

Lupin sighed. "I suppose not. All right, we all go."

"Just a moment, I've got an idea," Hermione said. She picked up the box with the Quidditch set.

"What's that for?" asked Ron.

"Remember Dobby's rogue Bludger? I got curious about how he made it chase after Harry like that, so I read up on the enchantments that make Quidditch balls fly. It turns out it's not all that difficult to tamper with them, if you can actually get your hands on them before the game. That's why the Hogwarts balls are kept under lock and key."

"That's all very interesting, Hermione, but what does it have to do with rescuing Cho?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Sirius and Lupin might be able to use the Bludgers against the Death Eaters," she explained.

"Good thinking, Hermione!" Sirius said. "You might want your brooms, as well. As long as you're going, you might as well get close enough to see where they are. Then if you manage to pick up any reinforcements for us you can send them where they'll do some good."

"Right," said Harry, picking up his broom. Ron and Hermione got their brooms, and then all five of them crowded around the hippogriff, and they each pressed one finger against the picture frame. "Everyone ready?" asked Sirius. They nodded, and he once more tapped the frame with his wand. "_Portus!_"

This time it worked. Harry felt the familiar jerking sensation behind his navel, and the Wortlethorpe Quidditch pitch dissolved in a vortex of colored light and howling wind.

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	4. Chapter 3: Confirmation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Confirmation**

"When evil stalks upon the land

I'll neither hold nor stay me hand,

But fight to win a better day,

Over the hills and far away…."

--"Over the Hills and Far Away,"

British Traditional, as sung by John Tams

on the "Richard Sharpe" series soundtrack

Harry's feet hit the ground hard, but he managed to keep his balance this time by leaning on Buckbeak. He glanced at the late afternoon sun to orient himself, then looked around. They had landed in the middle of a pasture, in a valley between two long, low ridges running from north to south. A hundred yards or so to the west, a small flock of sheep grazed beside the brook that ran down the center of the valley. "Perfect," Sirius said. "The Portkey's original endpoint should be just on the other side of that ridge." He pointed up the slope to the east of them.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Harry asked. "Let's get up to the top and have a look." He mounted his broom, and the others followed suit; then they kicked off and went skimming up the hill, just a few feet above the ground. Sirius held onto Buckbeak's tether as he flew, and the hippogriff paced him easily, spreading his powerful wings and covering the ground in long, gliding leaps.

They stopped just below the top of the ridge, in the shade of an enormous copper beech tree. The ends of its lowest branches hung within a couple of feet of the ground, forming a dense canopy of leaves that concealed the clear space around the ten-foot-thick trunk. Sirius tethered Buckbeak to one of the low-hanging limbs, then walked stealthily to the far edge of the canopy, donned the invisibility cloak, and stepped out to look down the east side of the ridge. After a moment he returned.

"There's an old stone cottage down there, about a quarter of a mile away," he said, "with three wizards in masks sitting around a table outside it."

"Let's find out how many are inside," said Lupin. He reached into yet another inner pocket of his robes and pulled out what looked like a pair of small brass binoculars sporting numerous odd knobs and dials.

"Those look like Omnioculars," Harry observed.

"They're the ones you bought me at the World Cup last summer," said Hermione. "I loaned them to Professor Lupin a while ago."

"They're another of our little projects, like the Untraceable Portkeys," said Sirius. "What with the price on my head, and Remus's lycanthropy making him unwelcome just about everywhere, we've had a lot of time on our hands lately; we've been spending it doing magical research. Hermione and the Weasley twins have been helping some, too. What we did with the Omnis was to put some of the same charms on them that Mad-Eye Moody used to make his magical eye. You can come and have a look, if you want."

"Thanks," said Harry. He got under the voluminous cloak along with Sirius and Lupin, and they moved carefully out from under the tree. At the very top of the ridge, they lay prone in the grass, still covered by the cloak. Lupin looked through the Omnioculars, adjusted a couple of knobs, and kept looking for a moment before handing them to Sirius. After half a minute or so, Sirius passed them to Harry.

He could already see the three figures Sirius had described; they were sitting around a small, round table in the yard in front of the ancient, one-story cottage. There were also a couple of lounge chairs in the yard. Harry shook his head. Death Eaters meeting in abandoned graveyards in the dead of night he could accept, but the idea of Death Eaters relaxing in lounge chairs in broad daylight required a little rearrangement of his own mental furniture.

He lifted the Omnioculars to his eyes. The three men at the table appeared to be playing some kind of card game. He noticed that in the view through the Omnioculars each of them was limned in a faint, red-orange glow. "What's that?" he whispered to Sirius. "That red aura around them?"

"Their body heat," Sirius replied. "It lets you see people in the dark. Try focusing on the inside of the cottage, you'll see what I mean."

Harry pointed the Omnioculars at the stone wall and adjusted the focus; the wall appeared to become transparent, and he could see the interior of the cottage. The front door led into a large room with a bare wooden floor, furnished with a simple wooden table and chairs, and a small, rough cot. Harry could see two people in the room, their warm glow far more pronounced in the relatively dim interior light: a black-robed man sitting in a chair beside the cot, resting a great double-bladed battleaxe across his knees, and a petite, slender girl who lay on the cot before him, her wrists and ankles bound with leather thongs. Harry felt a moment of profound relief, immediately replaced by a surge of renewed fear: Cho was alive, but the axeman could kill her in seconds if he suspected they were there. _They'll have to take him out first,_ he thought. _Good thing we've got my cloak here…._

There were two doors on opposite sides of the room; Harry shifted the Omnioculars to see what was behind them. One led to a bedroom with twin beds. Behind the other was a flight of narrow wooden stairs leading down to a cellar. He refocused to look through the floor. The cellar was dark and empty; he could just make out food stored on shelves at one side of the room, and cloaks hanging from a row of hooks on the other, but no telltale glows of body heat.

He looked back at the main room of the cottage, trying to work out which window would offer the best vantage point from which to fire a Stunning Spell at the Death Eater, and noticed something odd; there were two lanterns in the room, one on the table and one hanging above the cot, and they both burned with a weird, deep purple flame. Adjusting the focus, he saw that there were more of the odd lanterns outside – one on the table where the other three death eaters sat, and three others hanging from tall, hooked posts around the yard. "What are those lanterns?" Harry whispered.

"Let me see," Sirius said. Harry handed over the Omnioculars, and his godfather looked through them again. After a moment, he muttered, "Bloody hell. Well, we can forget about using the invisibility cloak down there."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, keeping his voice down to a harsh whisper with some effort. "Why?"

"The light from those would make it glow like a giant firefly," Sirius replied. "I should have figured they'd do something like that. Voldemort must know you own the cloak – Wormtail and young Crouch both saw you use it. They'd expect you to arrive wearing it. Come on, let's get back in the shade and work out how we're going to tackle this."

They carefully crawled backwards, staying under the cloak, until they were out of sight of the cottage. Then they stood and walked back into the lee of the giant copper beech.

Harry told Ron and Hermione what they had seen. "Four of them against the two of you?" Ron said, when Harry had finished. "I don't much care for those odds."

"Neither do I," Lupin admitted. "And we can't use the cloak; stealth is out, so it'll have to be speed. What do you think, Sirius?"

"I think we can probably take them, but it's going to be tricky. It would be better if we had some help. I'd give a lot to have Dumbledore or Moody here right now. Or Charlie Weasley – he probably has the fastest reflexes in the Order."

"I'd settle for Mundungus Fletcher," Lupin said. "Or even Snape."

Harry cleared his throat. "Excuse me, but do you remember who was flying rings around the two of you not an hour ago?"

"Harry—" Sirius began, warningly, but Harry interrupted him.

"Hear me out, all right? We can send Ron and Hermione back to this headquarters of yours for reinforcements. If they send help, fine, I'll stay out of this. But if they can't get anyone here by sunset, then I come down the hill with you. You know I'm good at fighting from a broomstick; I just spent the afternoon proving it. I won't simply stand by and wait while you maybe get yourselves and Cho killed."

Lupin glared at him, but Sirius looked thoughtful. "You know, he does have a point, Remus," he said. "It's his friend that's in danger down there, and it's because of him that they kidnapped her; we can't pretend he doesn't have a stake in this. And he's right about his dueling skills, too; we've just seen it."

"You've got a point," Lupin admitted. "All right, Harry, we'll do it your way."

"Hang on," said Ron. "Only one of us _has_ to go back." Hermione nodded, and they both stared defiantly at Sirius and Lupin.

"_No,_" said Lupin. "You both go. Neither of you is the duelist Harry is; you'd be as likely to get in the way as to help."

"You know that's not true," Hermione said. "It's true that neither of us is a match for Harry, but we can hold our own. Anyway, someone should ride Buckbeak, if you want him to fight. He won't be nearly as much help to you without someone to direct him, and all three of you should fight from your brooms – you've had more practice at that."

"Then it had better be Ron," said Harry. "You don't like riding Buckbeak."

"Oh, it's not that bad," said Hermione quickly. "Not now that I've had time to get to know him – I've been helping Sirius look after him at headquarters for the last month. It's better than a broom, actually; with Buckbeak, I can see what's keeping me in the air."

"Which means," said Sirius, "if only one person goes back, it has to be Ron."

"Why me?" Ron protested.

Lupin replied, "Because your mother will skin the pair of us for rugs if we don't send you back. We're going to be in enough trouble as it is for involving Harry and Hermione in this. Now take the Portkey and go!" He pulled a large quill from his pocket and handed it to Ron, then touched it with his wand. "_Portus._" Ron vanished instantly.

"All right," said Sirius to Harry and Hermione. "If we're lucky, he'll be back with reinforcements, and you two won't have to do a thing. But just in case we're not, we ought to have a battle plan. Remus, what do you think?"

Lupin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I know Harry suggested attacking at sunset," he said. "That does make sense, since we'd be coming at them out of the sun; it might take them longer to spot us. The problem is, tonight the full moon rises before the sun sets; if we wait that long, I'm going to transform."

Sirius considered that. "You know, that might not be such a bad thing," he said, slowly. "I mean, in wolf form you're immune to most spells, right?"

"That's true," Lupin acknowledged. "Werewolves are immune to pretty much anything short of an Unforgivable Curse or a silver weapon. I suppose if you already have Harry with you, I _might_ be more help to you in wolf form than on a broomstick."

"My thought exactly. No offense to your dueling skills, Moony, but I think you'd be at least as effective as a wolf, especially at close quarters with opponents on the ground."

"I'd have to be careful not to bite anyone, though; I don't think we really need to be creating any werewolf Death Eaters."

"Or, if you do bite anyone, make sure it's fatal," said Sirius grimly.

Lupin nodded. "I can live with that."

Sirius's smile could have frozen firewhisky. "Considering where any prisoners we take will be spending the rest of their lives, we might be doing them a favor if we simply killed the lot of them."

"You would know. Still, it would be nice to have them available for questioning."

"True. That might even convince old Fudge to pull his head out of the sand… or wherever it is he's keeping it these days…."

"All right," said Harry. "So we attack at sunset, after Lupin transforms. What are our tactics?"

"You and I ride in on our brooms, fast as they'll carry us. We try to Stun the ones in the garden as we pass over them, but our main target is the house. How are you at the Reductor Curse?"

"I can do it in my sleep. I spent a lot of time practicing that one before the Third Task."

"Good. We go straight for the door and blast it open, then Stun the axeman. Then we turn around and deal with any of the others we didn't hit on the way in. We'll send the Bludgers down just ahead of us, and Lupin will be right behind us; that should keep them busy."

"What about Buckbeak and me?" Hermione asked.

"You're our reserve," Lupin told her. "Buckbeak's a lot bigger than a broomstick, and he can't fly as fast; if you fly down with us, they'll probably spot us a lot sooner, and we'll lose the element of surprise. You get in the air as soon as we hit them, and fly down to help Lupin deal with the three outdoors… unless all of us are Stunned or killed going in. I'm going to make Buckbeak's collar into a Portkey that will take you both back to headquarters; if worse comes to worst, use it, then send help as soon as you possibly can."

Hermione nodded tightly. "All right. I don't like it, but I suppose getting caught or killed myself won't help you any."

"Exactly," Lupin said. "That's another reason we sent Ron back instead of you. You're better at listening to reason."

She nodded again. "Thanks. I think I'll get to work on those Bludgers." She knelt next to the case with the Quidditch set and opened it.

"Good. I'll set up the Portkey, then go back out and keep an eye on things." Lupin walked over to Buckbeak and aimed his wand at the hippogriff's collar, murmuring an incantation. "There," he said to Hermione. "It's got a bit of a delay, so you can't trigger it by accident; you'll have to hold onto it for a good five seconds to make it work."

She looked up long enough to say, "Thanks, Professor," then returned her attention to the Bludgers. Lupin vanished back under Harry's cloak; a moment later, the outer branches of the tree rustled as he emerged from under the canopy.

Sirius sat down on the mossy ground, leaning against the tree's enormous trunk. Harry, lacking anything better to do, sat next to him, drawing up his knees and crossing his arms.

"Tell me about this friend of yours, Harry," said Sirius.

Harry sighed. "She's not really my friend," he replied. "I've barely even spoken to her. But she's the prettiest girl I've ever met. She's a terrific Seeker – gave me a real run for my money in the last Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match, even though I had my Firebolt and she was riding a Comet Two Sixty. She seems nice, too. She always smiles at me in the halls, she went out of her way to say hi to me at the World Cup, and she never wore one of those stupid "Support Cedric Diggory" buttons even when most of her friends had them. And…" Harry started blushing in spite of himself. "This might be wishful thinking, I guess, but she seemed really disappointed that she couldn't go to the ball with me. I keep wondering what would have happened if I'd asked her before Cedric did. I don't know… maybe it wouldn't have worked out anyway. I mean, what do I know about girls?"

Sirius shrugged. "Every man has to learn some time."

"I guess so. Anyway, I ended up taking Parvati Patil to the ball, but I'm afraid she didn't have a very good time; she wanted to dance, and I'm no good at dancing. I would have tried with Cho, though. I keep thinking… if she'd been going out with me, instead of Cedric, she wouldn't have gotten her heart broken when he died." Harry hunched forward, pulling up his knees and hiding his face in his arms. "I don't know, that doesn't seem right, somehow, but I can't help thinking about it."

Sirius rested a hand on his shoulder. "Do you blame yourself for his death?"

Harry looked up at him. "No… yes… I don't know. I know I didn't do anything wrong, but he still wouldn't have died if it hadn't been for me. Just like Cho. If not for me, she wouldn't be tied up in there, waiting for those murdering bastards to, to—" He choked, unable to finish the thought.

Sirius squeezed his shoulder hard for a moment before letting his hand fall. "We're going to get her out, Harry. You couldn't save Cedric, and there's no shame in that; sometimes there's nothing you can do. But we will save Cho. I promise."

"I can't stand this waiting," Harry muttered. "All the while she's lying down there, not knowing we're here, imagining who knows what…."

"I know, Harry. I hate it too. But we have to give Ron a chance to get help. Wouldn't you rather have Dumbledore or Moody here?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I've hardly met the real Moody, you know."

"True, but you know what he's like; Crouch did a perfect job of pretending to be him, otherwise he could never have fooled Dumbledore. Anyway, as I said, I think we can take these scum, but it would be a lot easier if there were more of us."

"All right. Let's just hope that Ron finds someone to send."

They lapsed into silence then, each lost in his own thoughts. Harry found himself brooding on Cedric's death. Was Sirius right, he wondered? _Had_ there really been nothing he could have done?

They'd seen Wormtail coming, it was true, but they hadn't known who he was. With his small stature, and the bundle containing Voldemort's feeble form, he had looked like a woman carrying a baby. The first sign Harry had had that things were not as they seemed was the flaring pain in his scar, which had been so bad that he dropped his wand and collapsed. Looking back, it was obvious that he and Cedric should have Stunned first and asked questions later – but could they really have attacked what looked like a mother and infant?

_If I'd been thinking faster,_ he thought bitterly, _it might have occurred to me to wonder what anyone would be doing with a baby in that graveyard at night. I wasn't nearly as paranoid as I should have been, after being hauled away from Hogwarts by an unexpected Portkey. I wish I'd listened to Moody… except of course he wasn't Moody…._ He almost laughed at the irony of it: had he taken the false Moody's lessons more to heart, he might have foiled the man's own scheme.

Then, as if in answer to these thoughts, he thought he could hear Cedric's voice in the back of his mind: _I didn't do anything either, Harry – not even after you screamed and fell over._

Harry sat bolt upright. "_Cedric?_" he whispered, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

_Maybe. Maybe there's still an echo of me clinging to you from the_ Priori Incantatem_ spell. Or more likely, maybe this is just you telling yourself what you already know but refuse to admit._

_Yeah,_ Harry thought. _And maybe this is just me going quietly insane._

_You're not insane, Harry; you're just under a lot of stress._

_Lovely. The voice of someone I saw die is talking to me in my head, telling me I'm not crazy. That's really convincing, you know._

The voice was silent for a moment; Harry imagined Cedric shrugging his shoulders. Then it said, _You shouldn't blame yourself, Harry._

_So everyone keeps telling me,_ Harry thought irritably. _It's just… your shade helped me fight Voldemort; I never would have gotten out of that graveyard otherwise. I wish…._

_I know. It wasn't just me, though, and we didn't only do it for you. All of us – me, the old Muggle, Bertha Jorkins, your parents… we all had a score to settle with Voldemort. Helping you escape was the least we could do. Anyway, you risked your life to bring my body back to my family. As far as I'm concerned, we're square._

Harry shook his head. _It seems a poor payment for saving my life._

_All right Harry,_ said the voice. _If that isn't enough… think about where you are and what you're doing. I loved Cho, and if I were there, I'd be getting ready to do exactly the same thing you are. Get her out of that place alive, and we're square, once and for all – all debts cancelled. All right?_

_Fair enough,_ thought Harry. The voice fell silent.

The minutes crept by with no sign of Ron or anyone else from the Order. The light filtering through the leaves turned golden, then orange as the sun sank toward the horizon. At last, Lupin stepped back into the lee of the copper beech, shedding the Invisibility Cloak as he came.

"Any minute now," he said. "They're still where they were when you last looked – three outside, one inside with Cho."

"The Bludgers are ready," said Hermione, coming around the tree trunk. "All I have to do is point them at the Death Eaters."

"All right," said Sirius. "Let's go."

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	5. Chapter 4: Confrontation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Confrontation**

"Hate is fear, and fear is rot,

That cankers root and fruit alike:

Fight cleanly then, hate not, fear not,

Strike with no madness when you strike."

--Robert Graves

They walked out from under the tree and up near the lip of the ridge, staying low to avoid being spotted. Sirius led Buckbeak as close as he dared, then joined Harry. As the two of them mounted their brooms, Lupin began to change. His face and body lengthened while his legs shrank and his shoulders hunched; thick gray fur sprouted on his face and hands and he dropped to all fours. Harry recoiled, remembering the other time he had witnessed this transformation. This time, however, with the influence of the Wolfsbane Potion, the werewolf did not snarl and snap at the others; instead, he looked up at Harry and winked one golden eye, then slunk up to the very top of the ridge and crouched down, ready to sprint down the hill.

Hermione, carrying the two quiescent Bludgers, got down on the ground beside him and pointed down the hill with her wand, whispering something. The Bludgers rose into the air and hung there, a foot above the ground. Hermione backed down the slope a bit, stood up, and approached Buckbeak, bowing low. The hippogriff returned the courtesy promptly, and she walked up to him and stroked his beak, then put one foot on top of his wing where it joined his shoulder and swung up onto his back.

"All right," she said. "Everyone ready?"

Harry and Sirius looked nodded at her over their shoulders. She pointed her wand at the Bludgers and said, in a strong, clear voice "_Catapultus!_"

The Bludgers shot down the hillside. Harry and Sirius kicked off and accelerated hard, tearing down the slope in their wake, with Lupin running close behind them.

As they closed in on the house, they saw the Bludgers knock two of the three card players off their chairs and send them sprawling on the grass. The third leaped to his feet, grabbing for the wand in his belt. Harry and Sirius's Stunning Spells struck him at the same instant, making a red nimbus around his head and torso as he collapsed beside his companions.

There was no more time to think about the men on the ground; the wooden door was rushing up to meet them. Harry aimed his wand at it, and he and Sirius shouted in unison, "_Reducto!_"

The door blasted off its hinges and shattered. Harry and Sirius shot through the open doorway, braking hard. Across the room, the small figure of Cho Chang lay bound and gagged on the cot. Behind her, the tall man in the black robe and white skull mask rose swiftly from his chair against the wall, hefting his great axe. Sirius snapped the tip of his wand into line with the masked Death Eater and shouted, "_Stupefy!_" To Harry's shock, the man blocked the red ray from Sirius's wand with the blade of his axe – and reflected it back on Sirius, who fell from his broom and sprawled across the floor, Stunned.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Harry brought his Firebolt to a screeching halt in the middle of the room, slewing it sideways, his wand arm whipping out in full extension like a fencer's lunge. The Death Eater swung his battleaxe high overhead, then down in a glittering arc toward the slender neck of the girl lying bound and helpless before him. Harry felt as though he were moving in slow motion – he was too late, Cho was going to die before his eyes – he screamed at the top of his lungs, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Six inches from Cho's neck, the axe bounced upward as though it had struck an invisible barrier and spun out of the Death Eater's hands, clattering on the floor behind him.

The man froze for a moment in surprise; then he gave Harry a mocking bow, holding his hands wide apart to show he was unarmed, and said, "Not bad, boy. You've managed to impress me." Harry had been half-expecting to hear Lucius Malfoy's unctuous drawl, but instead the man spoke in a low, rough Scottish brogue, utterly devoid of human warmth.

Harry remembered the last time he'd heard that voice, and a chill ran up his spine. "Don't move!" he said through clenched teeth. "Unless you fancy dying… Macnair."

The Death Eater actually chuckled at that. "You think _you_ could cast the Killing Curse, boy?"

"Care to find out?" Harry snarled. "Reach for your wand. I'll bloody well kill you where you stand!"

"Now, now, Potter, there's no need for such temper. I'd like to stay and discuss how you and your companions hexed my Portkey, but I'm afraid I have pressing business elsewhere."

Harry shouted, "_Stupefy!_" but it was too late; the Death Eater dived for his axe, and the jet of red light from Harry's wand went over his head. Now the cot – and Cho – were between Harry and his enemy. Harry dashed forward to get a clear shot, but before he could fire off another spell the man Disapparated.

Breathing hard, Harry bent over the cot where Cho was now struggling frantically, her eyes wide and frightened, and pulled the gag from her mouth. "Are you all right?" he asked. "Don't worry, he's gone…."

She was shaking her head urgently. "No!" she cried, the moment her mouth was clear, "Harry, get away, it's a trap!"

Even as she spoke, the door to the cellar swung open. The lamp suddenly blew out, and a wave of bone-chilling cold filled the room. Harry's head was filled with a terrible, anguished screaming. _Of course,_ he thought, fighting back panic, _Dumbledore said they'd join Voldemort's side…._ He raised his wand and said, "_Lumos!_" The tip of the wand lit with a brilliant blue glow – just in time to illuminate the first of several towering, cloaked figures floating through the cellar door, reaching out for him and Cho with slimy, leprous gray hands. He could hear the dementors' rattling breath, and their malignant power seemed to settle on his mind like a poisonous fog, draining him of every happy thought.

He knew what he had to do. Resisting the black despair that threatened to overwhelm him, he called to mind the immense joy he had felt at finding his friends in the park that morning and shouted, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A spray of silver light burst from the tip of his wand, resolving itself into the form of a huge, shining stag that nearly filled the room. The fog in Harry's mind lifted instantly. The stag pawed the ground and lowered its antlers at the dementors. They quailed before it; then, as it charged into their midst, they scattered, vanishing back into the dark of the cellar or out into the gathering dusk, where they blew away like leaves in a gale.

The Patronus turned to Harry and Cho, regarding them with eyes of liquid silver. It lowered its head and gently nuzzled Cho's face. She opened her eyes and stared up at it in wonder. The stag looked up at Harry and nodded its magnificent head, then dissipated, leaving only a wisp of sparkling silver mist hanging in the air.

As it vanished, Cho's eyes widened again in panic and she screamed, staring past Harry at the doorway. Harry spun around; one of the Death Eaters from outside stood there, raising his wand and shrieking the Killing Curse: "_Avada Ked-AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!_" The curse broke off in a wail of agony as a pair of massive claws seized the man's shoulders, bearing him to the ground. His wand was knocked out of his hand and skittered across the floor, fetching up under the cot.

Hermione slid down from Buckbeak's back, white-faced and trembling. "That was too close," she said, shakily.

Harry nodded, breathing hard. "But you made it. Thanks, Hermione. Better wake up Sirius; I'm going to help Cho."

Cho was lying curled up on the cot, eyes shut tight again, whimpering softly like a wounded animal. Harry felt another stab of cold rage at seeing the bright, vivacious girl who had so captivated him at Hogwarts reduced to such a state. Taking out his pocketknife, he quickly cut the leather thongs that bound her wrists and ankles. Then he sat on the cot, drew her into his arms, and murmured in her ear, "It's all right Cho, they're all gone. They can't hurt you now. Nothing's going to hurt you, you're safe now."

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him. "Harry…." she whispered. She hugged him convulsively, burying her face in his chest, and he could feel hot tears seeping through his shirt; then, with a soft sigh, she fainted.

Turning, Harry saw Sirius getting unsteadily to his feet. He leaned on Hermione for a moment, then straightened up and glanced around the room. "Do you need a hand, Harry?" he asked.

"No, thanks," Harry replied. "I can manage." He rose from the bed and cradled Cho in his arms with her head resting against his shoulder. Her slight frame seemed almost weightless, but he was very conscious of her bare legs, the smooth skin cool against his arm. She stirred slightly but remained limp and unconscious as he carried her out into the fading evening light. Buckbeak had dragged the equally inert Death Eater outside and was now lying down with his talons curled possessively over the man's body, a look of immense satisfaction in his fierce orange eyes. The gray wolf that was Lupin had curled up on the ground a little way away, licking a long, shallow cut on his left hind leg.

Harry gently set Cho down in one of the lounge chairs and knelt on the grass beside her. He touched two fingers to her throat and found her pulse, which was fast but steady; she seemed to be breathing normally. _We did it, Cedric,_ he thought. _She's going to be all right. And maybe, just maybe, so am I._

Hermione had followed Harry out of the cottage. "After the Bludgers knocked down the two outside, one of them Disapparated," she explained breathlessly. "But the other one pulled a knife out of his boot and threw it at Lupin as he came down the hill. An ordinary knife wouldn't have hurt him a bit, of course, but this one must have been made of silver, or at least plated with it. He went tumbling head over heels, and the Death Eater got up and started for the door. The Bludger came at him again, but he blasted it with his wand. Buckbeak and I were in the air by then; we would have been on him quicker, but a couple of those dementors came soaring right past us and spooked Buckbeak; he almost threw me off, and it took me a moment to get him calmed down again." The hippogriff ruffled his wings and shot her a reproving glance, and she quickly added, "I'm sorry, Buckbeak, I know it wasn't your fault; dementors do that to everyone."

Harry stood up and walked over to the hippogriff. "Thanks, Buckbeak," he said. "You saved my life in there." Then he grinned. "I guess that makes us even, huh? Now, let's see who you've got here." He knelt beside the fallen Death Eater and pulled off his mask.

Once the man's head was uncovered, Harry could see that his neck was bent at an impossible angle and he wasn't breathing. Harry felt a chill as he looked at the still features, but shrugged it off. He had seen death before, and he wasn't going to waste any sympathy on a man who'd helped kidnap and torture Cho. However, he was surprised at the Death Eater's youth: the man couldn't have been more than four or five years out of school. The implications were disturbing: clearly, Voldemort was gaining new followers.

As he turned back to Hermione, who was now on her knees examining Lupin's wound, pain flared in his scar. He clapped his hand to his forehead and groaned. "What is it," Hermione asked, glancing up at him.

"I think," said Harry through gritted teeth, "that Macnair just reported in to Voldemort, and Voldemort's… annoyed with him. He's probably getting a little taste of what he did to Cho. Serves him right. I just wish I didn't have to share the experience."

"In that case," said Sirius, emerging from the cottage, "I think the five of you had better be going, just in case Voldemort decides to send in reinforcements."

"Aren't you coming with us?" asked Harry.

"I'm going to have a look around, see if I can find anything here the Order can use as evidence. This kidnapping business might help us convince at least some people at the Ministry that we've been telling the truth all along. If any Death Eaters show up, I can Apparate away; the rest of you can't do that.

"All right," said Harry. "Just be careful."

Sirius nodded. Looking around at the werewolf, the hippogriff, Cho, and the Stunned Death Eater, he said, "I think the easiest thing will be to make this chair into a Portkey. Gather around, everyone." Harry and Hermione put their hands on the back of the lounge chair, and Lupin limped over and clamped the armrest in his teeth.

Sirius pointed his wand at the Death Eater and said, "_Incarcerous!_" Ropes burst from the tip of his wand and coiled like snakes around the unconscious man, binding him securely. "_Mobilicorpus,_" Sirius said, and the inert body rose into the air and settled across the foot of the lounge chair. Finally, Sirius cajoled Buckbeak into placing one claw on the arm of the chair opposite Lupin.

"Now, I'm sending you to the Harrington Arms Inn at Number Forty-Seven, Lighthouse Road, Flamborough Head, in Yorkshire. It's very important you remember that address, because otherwise you won't be able to see it; it's protected by the Fidelius Charm."

"Harrington Arms Inn, Number Forty-Seven Lighthouse Road, Flamborough Head," Harry repeated. "Got it."

"Good. All right, everyone ready?" He moved his wand in a curlicue gesture at the chair and said, "_Confundus Locaris_." Then he tapped the back of it once and said, "_Portus._" For the third time that day, Harry felt himself jerked forward into a maelstrom of wind and swirling colors.

A moment later, Harry and the others landed beside a country road that ran through a grassy field. He looked around, getting his bearings. The waning evening light in the sky to his left told him that he was facing north. Off to the east, he could see the tall white tower of a lighthouse about half a mile away, and hear the cries of sea birds and the sound of waves breaking against a cliff. "The Harrington Arms Inn," he recited, "at Number Forty-Seven, Lighthouse Road, Flamborough Head." Beside him, Hermione was whispering the same thing.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, a heavy wooden door stood before him where a moment before there had been nothing but an empty field. As he stared at the door, an entire building seemed to inflate around it: a three-story, fieldstone structure with a steep slate roof. Glancing up, he could see a wooden sign hanging from an iron bar set in the stone: a coat of arms consisting of a silver fret on a black field, surmounted by a crimson animal like a rampant heraldic lion, but with a human face, the wings of a dragon and the tail of a scorpion.

The knocker on the door was a stylized brass lion's head, with a heavy brass ring clamped in its jaws. Hermione reached out and thumped it twice against the wood, and the door swung slowly open.

Harry lifted Cho in his arms again and stepped inside. Hermione levitated the bound and unconscious Death Eater with the same spell Sirius had used and floated him across the threshold in front of her; Lupin limped though the doorway beside her.

As they stepped inside, candles set in sconces along the walls lit to reveal a large room, clearly the inn's common room. Immediately to their right was a low partition with a desk behind it; to the left was a large open area with several round tables, each with three or four chairs around it, and four large, comfortable-looking armchairs along the front wall, near the two windows. An enormous stone fireplace dominated the far left wall. Directly across from the door, a grand staircase curved up to the second floor, and on the back wall near the far left corner of the room was an open doorway that presumably led to the kitchen.

Hermione deposited the Death Eater unceremoniously on the floor just inside the door. "Would you mind keeping an eye on him, Professor?" she asked Lupin. The gray wolf gave her a lupine grin, tongue lolling out, and lay down with his nose inches from the man's face.

"Bedrooms will be upstairs," Hermione said. "Why don't you take Cho up there while I find someplace for Buckbeak to stay? There ought to be a stable or something."

"All right," said Harry. He carried Cho to the stairs while Hermione coaxed the hippogriff through the door and shut it behind him.

The candles continued to light by themselves in front of him as Harry climbed the stairs. The staircase ended in a hallway with four doors along each side. The first door on the right was ajar; Harry kicked it open.

A huge four-poster bed filled the far corner of the room, similar to the beds in his dormitory at Hogwarts but a foot longer and twice as wide, with diaphanous white curtains instead of red velvet ones. Beside the bed stood a big recliner chair and a small table with a shaded oil lamp for reading; an open window behind the chair let in a light breeze and the sound of waves breaking in the distance. Harry placed Cho, still unconscious, in the recliner, and pulled back the covers on the bed. Then he lifted her once again and laid her gently on the bed, pulling the covers up over her.

Unsure what else to do, he drew his wand and started a fire in the hearth in the corner, then lit the reading lamp and settled down in the recliner to wait, glancing idly around room. A large wardrobe stood in the corner behind the door, and beside it another door with a full-length mirror hanging on it led to what he guessed was a bathroom. On the other side of that door, near where he sat, was a low dresser, and between the foot of the bed and the hearth stood a small writing desk with a plain wooden chair. A larger stuffed armchair stood between the hearth and the door leading out into the hall.

In a few minutes Hermione appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and a two tumblers. "How's she doing?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Still out of it, but she doesn't seem hurt," Harry replied. "She's breathing normally, anyway. I think it was the dementors; we were both out for quite a while after our run-in with them last year, remember?"

Hermione shuddered. "I'm not likely to forget," she said, as she set the tray down on the nightstand. "So what do we do now?"

"Wait for Sirius, I guess. Unless you have a better idea?"

"No, I can't think of anything else. I think I'll go back downstairs, just in case that… scum wakes up. Not that Lupin couldn't handle him, but I'd rather he didn't have to."

"All right," said Harry. "I'm going to stay here in case Cho wakes up."

"Good idea," Hermione agreed. "I don't think it would do her any good to wake up alone in a strange place." She started for the door, then paused and turned back to Harry. "You're going to have to tell her, you know," she said quietly.

"Tell her what?" Harry asked, with a hint of irritation. Fond as he was of Hermione, her tendency to speak in cryptic phrases and assume that others would follow her train of thought could be infuriating.

"Everything. Harry, she's seen Sirius, and she's seen the Death Eaters. She's involved now, as much as you or Ron or I. She's suffered more than any of us – well, maybe not more than you. After what she's been through, she deserves to know the truth – about Voldemort, about Sirius, about the Order, and especially about how Cedric died. If anyone has the right, it's her. And if anyone is obliged to tell her, it's you."

Harry sighed heavily. "I suppose you're right. It's just… what do I do if she starts crying? Cedric was her boyfriend, you saw how she was at the Leaving Feast…."

Hermione glared at him in exasperation. "Just be nice to her," she told him. "You were doing fine back in the cottage."

"Was I? It just seemed… it seemed natural, somehow. Like… like the way Mrs. Weasley hugged me, in the hospital wing after…."

"That's exactly right," Hermione agreed. "She needs to feel safe, and to know that you care about her. You do, don't you?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then you have to let _her_ know that. Look, you said you wished she were your girlfriend. Well, the most important part of that word 'girlfriend' is _friend._ Talk to her the way you would to me, let her cry on your shoulder if that's what she needs, and let the rest take care of itself."

"All right," said Harry dubiously, "I suppose I can do that."

Hermione flashed him a quick smile. "Of course you can. I'll see you in a bit, all right?"

"All right." She left the room; Harry poured himself a glass of ice water from the pitcher and settled back into his chair to wait. It put him in mind of waiting for his turn at the First Task in last year's Tournament – except that last year, he knew he'd be fighting a dragon. He had no idea what to expect from Cho when she awoke.

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	6. Chapter 5: Consolation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Consolation**

"Oh, let's wait one more day for the conversation,

One more day to make it right.

Let's get away from the confrontation –

One more day, just buying time…."

--"Buying Time," by Great Big Sea

It wasn't long before he heard the front door open and shut, and Hermione talking with what sounded like several other people down in the common room. As the voices moved closer, his heart leapt: two of them were Ron and Sirius, and the third was the one person he had most hoped they would bring with them: Albus Dumbledore.

Harry jumped up from his chair and hurried to the doorway. He could see Hermione and Ron leading the way up the stairs, while Sirius and Dumbledore followed. The old wizard appeared deep in conversation with Sirius.

"Professor!" Harry called. "I'm glad you're here."

Curiously, Dumbledore did not look at Harry as he answered. Keeping his head turned and his eyes fixed on Sirius, he said, "Good evening, Harry. I am very pleased that you and Miss Chang are both alive, and I have a great deal to tell you, but I must ask that you bear with me for a little while, until after I have spoken with Miss Chang. It is of the utmost importance that you and I avoid eye contact. I will explain why soon, I promise you, but in the mean time I must ask you to trust me."

Harry hesitated. He'd often found it difficult to understand why Dumbledore did some of the things he did, but this was surely the oddest thing the Headmaster had ever asked of him. Still, he _had_ promised an explanation, and Harry did want him to see to Cho as soon as possible. "All right, Professor," Harry said, turning away.

Ron reached the top of the stairs and rushed up to hug Harry, squeezing the wind out of him and thumping him on the back. "Sirius says you're the hero of the hour," he said. "Again. Macnair and six dementors, not to mention that fellow they've got tied up downstairs!"

"I didn't get Macnair," Harry replied bitterly. "He got away. I should have Stunned him right off."

"Why didn't you?" Ron asked, curiously.

Harry glanced over at the other three. "I… I'll tell you later, all right?"

"All right, mate."

"How is she, Harry?" Sirius asked, coming up behind Ron.

"Still unconscious," Harry said. "I'm getting a bit worried."

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will know what to do," said Hermione, looking up at the tall headmaster.

"I thank you for your confidence, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "I can only hope that it will prove justified." He turned to Sirius. "I think it would be best if you took Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger back downstairs for the moment. Harry, please remain here with me. While I am of course familiar with all my students, I have only once had occasion to speak with Miss Chang personally before. After all she has been through, I think it would be better for her to have someone she knows here when she awakens. Remember, though, what I said about avoiding eye contact."

"Don't worry, Professor," said Harry. "I'll keep both eyes on Cho."

"Very well, then,"

"Just a moment," said Hermione. She held up a rectangular box – the Honeydukes chocolate Ron had given him that afternoon. "Ron and Sirius brought your trunk," she explained. "I thought you might want this, because of the dementors."

"Good thinking," Harry said gratefully, taking the box. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Hermione turned and headed back down the stairs after Ron and Sirius, while Harry and Dumbledore proceeded into the bedroom.

Dumbledore moved the armchair to the foot of the bed with a casual flick of his wand and sat down in it. "Please be seated, Harry," he said. "And it might be a good idea for you to take Miss Chang's hand; she will most likely be disoriented when she awakens, and I hope that your presence will prove reassuring.

"I hope so, too," said Harry dubiously, pulling the recliner closer to the bed and sitting down. He opened the box of chocolate and set it next to the pitcher. "We don't really know each other that well, you know."

"I know that she is not one of your close friends," Dumbledore agreed. "But you have played Quidditch against each other, and you have spoken before, have you not?"

"Once or twice," Harry admitted. "You know that she was Cedric's girlfriend, right, Professor?"

"Yes, Harry," said Dumbledore heavily. "I was aware of that. That is why I selected her as his hostage in the Second Task."

Harry nodded. He had never considered how the hostages were selected, but of course the obvious answer was that the head of each school had chosen for his or her Champion.

Harry looked down at Cho's still, pale face. She looked much as she had during the Second Task, when he had seen her unconscious and bound to the merpeople's statue at the bottom of the Hogwarts lake. "It should have been Cedric here tonight," Harry muttered.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Cedric Diggory was a fine flyer, and very skilled at defensive magic," he said. "But he did not have the ability to produce a fully-fledged Patronus. Even if he had survived the Third Task, the dementors you banished so easily tonight would have been his undoing, and hers."

Harry almost looked up at Dumbledore before remembering his warning. Shaking his head, he reached out and took Cho's hand, holding it gently in his own. It felt warm and almost frighteningly small and fragile, reminding him of a fledgling sparrow he had found in the Dursleys' back yard once, years before. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and heard Dumbledore say, softly but clearly, "_Ennervate._"

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Cho stirred and moaned. Her hand closed on Harry's with a surprisingly strong grip, she gasped and her eyes flew open. She looked around wildly for a moment before her gaze steadied on Harry's face. Harry gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Harry?" she whispered. "Where am I?"

"Safe," he replied. "Professor Dumbledore is here."

She looked down to the foot of the bed. "Oh! Professor, I…."

"Please do not exert yourself, Miss Chang," said Dumbledore kindly. "I know you have had a very bad time. I would like to speak with you about what happened, but there is no rush."

She looked back at Harry. "I feel awful," she said. "Weak and tired and sick…."

"That's partly from the dementors," Harry told her. "Here, this will help." He handed her a piece of chocolate.

She looked at it skeptically for a moment, then bit into it. Her eyes widened and she quickly took another bite, as color returned to her cheeks.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, in a slightly stronger voice. "That did help."

Harry nodded. "I've had a couple of run-ins with dementors before," he said. "Chocolate's the best treatment for what they do to you. Here, have another piece."

"Thanks." She finished the chocolate, then asked, "Could I have a glass of water, please?"

"Of course," said Harry, filling the second glass.

She gulped down about half the glass before speaking again. "You've had a couple of run-ins with dark wizards, too, Harry. I don't suppose you know an easy remedy for what they can do to you?"

"No, I don't," Harry admitted. "But it does get better in time. I know that's not much comfort right now, but I promise you, it will get better."

"I guess you would know." She shut her eyes and pulled herself closer to Harry, turning on her side and curling around their joined hands. "I'm so tired…."

Harry reached out tentatively with his free hand, wanting to comfort her but not sure how. Just then, he heard an odd sound from the foot of the bed, and glanced up at Dumbledore before once again remembering his warning. The old wizard's eyes were closed, and he was whistling: a simple, haunting tune which seemed vaguely familiar, but which Harry couldn't place.

The fire flared up suddenly, bathing the room in golden light, and a brilliant red bird, big as a swan, flew out of the flames. Its scarlet wings and long, golden tail shone like sunset, and it sang a pure, unearthly melody that Harry recognized after a moment as a counterpoint to the tune Dumbledore was whistling. Its music seemed to soak into his skin, warming his heart and lifting his spirit.

The bird circled Dumbledore once, then sailed across the room and landed on Harry's shoulder. Cho opened her eyes and stared.

"Um," said Harry, absorbing this development. "Cho, this is Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes. Fawkes, this is my friend Cho Chang."

"He's beautiful…" Cho whispered, gazing at Fawkes. The phoenix ruffled his feathers, hopped from Harry's shoulder down onto the bed, and settled himself on the pillow beside her, all the while continuing his soft crooning.

"I think he likes you," Harry said.

"I like him," she replied. "That song makes me feel… I don't know how to describe it."

"Better than the chocolate?"

"Yes. It's like… I don't know, drinking hot tea after Quidditch practice in a winter rainstorm." Harry smiled at her choice of simile, and she smiled back – a wan, watery smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Do you feel up to talking about what happened, Miss Chang?" he asked. "I know you would probably prefer to rest now, but it may be important that your story be told as soon as possible; two of the men who abducted you are still at large, and anything you can remember that might help us find them would be of enormous value."

"I can try," Cho said, looking over at Dumbledore. "I don't know how much good it will do; I never heard any of their names or saw any of their faces, but I'll tell you what I can."

Fawkes fell silent and cocked his head attentively.

"Thank you, Miss Chang. The smallest details often prove most important in matters such as this."

"All right. Where should I start?"

"Let us start from the beginning; when and where were you abducted?"

"Last night, at my family's shop in Limehouse. My parents are in Hong Kong on business, and my sister Liu and I run the shop when they're away. We had just closed up for the evening, and Liu had gone to Diagon Alley to put the week's earnings in our vault. I was in the back room, straightening things up. I was planning to floo over to my friend Marietta's; she'd invited me to stay the night and go to the Kenmare-Caerphilly match this afternoon, and I wanted to leave the shop tidy for Liu, since she'd have to run it by herself for the day.

"I was just about finished when I heard the front door open, so I stepped out into the front of the shop to tell whoever it was that we were closed. When I saw him, he was just putting on a white skull mask, and he had his wand out and pointed at me. He hit me with a Stunning Spell before I could say a word." She paused, shivering slightly.

"Please continue, Miss Chang," said Dumbledore gently.

"The next thing I remember is waking up in that cottage, tied to a chair." She paused and swallowed; when she spoke again, it sounded as though she was just barely holding back a sob. "They… one of them took my picture while the leader cast the Cruciatus Curse." Tears started in her eyes at the memory. Harry gave her hand a reassuringly squeeze, and she gripped his like a lifeline. "It hurt so much, I wanted to pass out, even die, anything to make it stop. I don't know how long it lasted – it felt like hours, but it might have been only a minute or two.

"Once they had their picture, they moved me over to the cot. In a way, that was almost as bad…" she shuddered. "Being… _handled_ like a sack of rice. I'll never forget how that felt…."

After a moment, she continued, "I tried to get them to talk to me, but they just ignored me; eventually one of them stuck a rag in my mouth and tied it in place so I couldn't talk any more. They had a bit of an argument then. Two of the younger-sounding ones wanted to, to r—" She swallowed again. "They wanted to rape me, but the one with the Scottish accent seemed to be in charge, and he told them to wait until after they had Harry – 'business before pleasure,' he said. He said that once… once they had captured Harry, or he had failed to show up, they could do whatever they wanted with me." She turned her teary eyes to Harry. "He said if you did come, they would make you watch them hurt me until I begged to die, and, and… and then he would give you a knife and make you k-kill me." Her voice had dropped to a barely-audible whisper. Harry gripped her hand, as much for his own comfort as hers; he felt sick with horror at what the Death Eaters had planned for them.

"During the night, they had the dementors come up from the cellar to stand guard while they slept. It was horrible; I couldn't sleep, but I had nightmares anyway. I kept seeing the end of the Tournament, hearing everyone shouting that Cedric was d-dead…."

She abruptly relinquished her white-knuckled grip on Harry's hand and turned over, sobbing into her pillow. After a moment Harry reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder, as Sirius had done with him under the beech tree that afternoon. She slid her own hand up to cover his, their fingers interlacing.

Fawkes raised his head and studied her for a moment, then began singing again, very softly. Cho gradually calmed down. Finally, she looked up at Harry, then over at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said.

"It's all right, Miss Chang," Dumbledore said. "Tears are the proof of our compassion. After all you have suffered, I would be far more worried for you if you did not weep."

"I've been crying so much over the last month, you'd think I would have run out of tears by now," she said bitterly. "Cedric and I had so many plans, so many things we wanted to do over the summer…." She stopped, composing herself with a visible effort.

Harry felt his stomach clench at the mention of Cedric's name, but he ignored it. Cho needed him now, and he was damned if he would let jealousy get in the way.

"Could you help me sit up, Harry?" Cho asked.

"Of course." Harry extended his hand, and she took it and levered herself up to a sitting position. After a moment, she continued her tale. "In the morning, the dementors went back down to the cellar. I stopped having the visions, but… I could still feel them, if you know what I mean. That awful, hopeless feeling…."

"As though you'll never feel happy again – you can't even remember what happiness is…." Harry murmured, shivering at the recollection of his own experiences with dementors.

"Yes. I felt it when they searched the train the year before last, but then it was just one of them, and only for a moment. This was much worse. It wasn't just the dementors – it was that I was sure I was going to die that night, and never see my family again. I didn't just _feel_ as though I would never be happy again, I _knew_ it." She looked up at Harry. "Do you know what that's like?"

"I do," said Harry, "and I'm… sorrier than I can say that you ever had to find out."

She nodded, "Thank you. I thought you would know, after facing… him."

Harry nodded back, and the moment stretched as they gazed into each other's eyes. Harry felt something pass between them, drawing them closer together, forming a bond of silent, mutual sympathy and understanding.

At length Cho looked down, breaking the eye contact. Harry realized he had been holding his breath, and he was pretty sure that she had been doing the same.

Cho turned her attention back to Dumbledore. "Toward the end of the day, the leader – what did you call him, Harry? MacNeil?"

"Macnair," said Harry grimly. "Walden Macnair. He works for the Ministry, on the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures – he's their executioner. I met him, briefly, when he came to Hogwarts to kill Buckbeak."

"Are you certain of this, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"I didn't see his face, but I'd know that voice anywhere," Harry replied. "He was with the other Death Eaters in the graveyard. Voldemort called him by name, told him he'd provide better victims than the animals he was killing for the Ministry, and Macnair thanked him."

"Very well. Please continue, Miss Chang."

"All right," said Cho. "That… Macnair came and sat down in the chair right next to me. He had his big axe, and he kept fidgeting with it – testing the edge with his finger, turning it in his hands, holding it across his lap and stroking it like a cat. He told me that my invitation from Marietta was fake – they'd sent it to keep anyone from missing me immediately. He told me I'd be dead before my family even realized I was gone. Then he leaned over and brushed my hair off my neck so he could see it better. He said—" she swallowed hard, shivering. "He said I had a very pretty head, and he was going to enjoy cutting it off. He said I was going to make a lovely addition to his trophy room. I… I think I went a bit hysterical then; I was crying really hard and trying to scream through the gag, and he just sat there and laughed at me."

Her voice choked up again, and her eyes were bright with tears. "After a while, I was too exhausted to cry anymore. I just lay there, waiting for something to happen – and then the door of the cottage blew up." She looked at Harry. "Everything happened so fast after that… you and that other wizard dueling with Macnair, the dementors, that Death Eater in the doorway trying to curse you and the hippogriff knocking him down… and then it was over, and you were holding me and telling me it was going to be all right. I think… I think I must have been just barely clinging to consciousness. I was terrified that if I fainted I would never wake up. Once you were there, I knew I didn't have to hold on any more. The next thing I remember is waking up here."

"I see," said Dumbledore gravely. "Thank you, Miss Chang. I know this has been a terrible ordeal for you, and I cannot emphasize enough how courageous you are in telling us your story now, while the pain of it is still so fresh in your memory."

"Thank you, Professor," she said softly. "I hope it helps."

"I believe that it will, Miss Chang. I intend to do everything in my power to see that the men who hurt you are brought to justice. My word on it."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"Now, I have brought a potion with me which will allow you a night's rest free of dreams, and you may have it in just a little while, but first I regret that there is one more thing I must ask of you. I am very sorry to do this, but it is necessary: I must make absolutely certain that you have not been placed under the Imperius Curse."

She stared at him in shock. "The Imperius Curse? But I haven't… oh!"

"You see the problem? That is precisely what you would say if you had. Staying here, you are bound to see and hear things which we are attempting to keep secret from Lord Voldemort."

Cho flinched at the sound of the dreaded name, but quickly recovered. "I understand, Professor. What do you have to do?"

"There is a branch of magic known as Legilimency," Dumbledore replied. "It enables one wizard to see the thoughts and memories of another. While it is not precisely a Dark Art, its use is carefully regulated, and it is not taught to wizards below the age of majority. It is a standard part of Auror training, however, and it is also studied by those Healers who specialize in the ailments of the mind."

"And you can use it to find out whether I'm under the Imperius Curse?" Cho asked.

"Precisely, dear girl. Now, Legilimency can be unpleasant for both parties involved, but it cannot do you any real harm. It will be much easier, however, if you do not try to resist."

"How would I resist?" she asked.

"By emptying your mind, or concentrating on something other than what the Legilimens wishes to know."

"All right. How do I make it easier?"

"Simply cast your mind back over the last twenty-four hours, to the moment before you were abducted. I know these memories are unpleasant, but I must ask you to be brave just a little longer."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right. Is there anything else?"

"The spell usually requires eye contact. If you would please look into my eyes, we can begin."

Cho nodded, fixing her gaze on Dumbledore's light blue eyes. Harry wondered fleetingly whether this had anything to do with Dumbledore's warning against meeting his eye; he couldn't think what the connection would be, though.

Dumbledore raised his wand, pointing it at Cho, and said, softly but clearly, "_Legilimens._"

Cho's grip on Harry's hand tightened until it hurt; he could see that she was clenching her jaw just as hard, and that indeed her entire body had gone rigid. Her dark eyes remained locked with Dumbledore's.

The connection lasted a minute or so, then Dumbledore lowered his wand and looked down, breaking it off. Cho relaxed abruptly, slumping forward and breathing hard.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Chang," Dumbledore said, and Harry thought he detected an unwonted note of strain in the old wizard's voice. "I am sorry that I had to put you through that, but it was necessary to be absolutely certain."

"And are you?" said Harry, with an edge to his voice.

"Oh yes," the old wizard replied. "Miss Chang's mind is her own; the Death Eaters made no attempt to control or tamper with her thoughts."

"Good," Harry said. "So you'll let her rest now?"

"Is that what you want, Miss Chang?"

Cho looked up. "I think I would like something to eat, first," she said. "The Death Eaters didn't give me anything but water, and not very much of that."

"Very well," said Dumbledore. Then he raised his voice and called, "Dobby?"

There was a loud _crack!_ like a bullwhip, and a curious creature appeared out of thin air beside Dumbledore. It was about three feet tall, with bat-like ears, a long, thin pencil of a nose, enormous, protuberant green eyes, and an assortment of brightly colored and spectacularly mismatched clothes. Harry, who had been expecting this, simply smiled, but Cho flinched in surprise, then stared at the creature in open fascination. "That's a house-elf," she said. "Is he one of the Hogwarts elves?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Dumbledore. "Dobby is a free elf; I hired him after he was released from the service of his former master. Dobby, this is Miss Cho Chang, of Ravenclaw House. Harry Potter, of course, you know."

"Dobby is very pleased to meet you, Miss Chang," said the elf, in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. "And most pleased to see Harry Potter again. Dobby has come to wish Harry Potter a happy birthday, sir, and to offer his services for as long as Harry Potter and his friends remain here, sir."

"Thank you, Dobby," said Harry. "I'm sure we can use the help."

"You are most welcome, sir." Dobby replied. "What can Dobby get for Harry Potter?"

"Nothing for me, thanks, Dobby," Harry told him. "But… what would you like, Cho?"

"Just a bowl of broth and some bread, I think," Cho replied. "And maybe a cup of tea."

"Dobby will be right back, miss!" The house-elf snapped his fingers and vanished with another "_crack!_"

Dumbledore rose from his chair. "Here is your potion, Miss Chang," he said. Reaching into a pocket of his robe, he brought out a little round flask, filled with a clear, dark blue liquid, and set it on the nightstand. "It is quite potent. A teaspoonful added to a glass of water is sufficient to ensure a full night's rest."

"Thank you, professor," said Cho.

"You are welcome. Now, Harry, you may keep Miss Chang company until she is asleep, and then I would like to hear your version of today's events. I will wait for you downstairs."

"All right, sir," said Harry.

"Good night, professor," Cho added.

"Good night, Miss Chang. Come, Fawkes."

The phoenix, which had been sitting quietly on the pillow beside Cho, spread his wings and flew up to Dumbledore's shoulder, and the old wizard turned to go. As he left the room, there was another explosive "_crack!_" and Dobby reappeared, holding a large platter. On it was a steaming bowl of what Harry's nose told him was beef broth, two buttered rolls, a small bone china teapot with two cups, and appropriate silverware. Dobby let go of the platter, and instead of crashing to the floor it floated up, across the bed, and hovered in front of Cho. "Here you are, miss," the house-elf squeaked.

"Thank you, Dobby," said Cho, filling one of the teacups. She looked mildly surprised at the tea's color. After letting it cool a moment, she lifted the cup and took a cautious sip. Her eyes widened. "Tian Shan green," she breathed. "How did you know?"

"Begging your pardon, miss, a good house-elf always knows what his wizards like. When Professor Dumbledore is asking Dobby to come help Harry Potter and Miss Chang, Dobby talks to the other elves, miss. Anthy always cleans Ravenclaw house, and she is telling Dobby that Miss Chang drinks Tian Shan green tea, so Dobby brings some with him from Hogwarts."

"I see. That was really thoughtful of you, Dobby. Thank you."

"No need to thank Dobby, miss," said Dobby earnestly. "Any friend of Harry Potter is a friend of Dobby, miss, and Dobby always does his best for his friends."

"In that case, Dobby, I'm glad to be your friend."

"Thank you, miss. Can Dobby get anything else for Miss Chang?"

"No, thank you."

"Dobby should go back to the kitchen, then, miss. Dobby has lots of work to do, making dinner for Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter's other friends."

"Go ahead, Dobby," said Harry. "I'll bring the tray down later."

The elf's huge eyes filled with tears. "Harry Potter is too kind to Dobby!" he wailed. "Ah, sir, no other wizard ever, ever—"

"Please calm down, Dobby, it's nothing, really. No trouble at all."

"Thank you, sir, thank you. Good night, Miss Chang."

"Good night, Dobby," said Cho, and the elf Disapparated again.

"I've never met a free house elf before," Cho commented, between spoonfuls of broth. "He seems awfully keen on you, Harry." She looked up at him questioningly.

"I, er, did him a favor once. But he liked me already; from what he says, house-elves are even more obsessed with the Boy-Who-Lived than wizards." Harry grimaced; his fame had always been more nuisance than asset. "It's silly, you know. Everyone thinks I'm a hero because of something that happened to me when I was a baby. I didn't _do_ anything."

"You did plenty today," said Cho quietly.

"I guess so," said Harry, looking down at his feet. "I keep thinking about how close that last one came… I should have checked that all three of the ones outside were down as soon as Macnair Disapparated. If it hadn't been for Hermione and Buckbeak, he could have killed us both."

"Maybe, but you beat Macnair, and you drove off the dementors… you saved my life, Harry. Thank you."

Harry felt his face flush. The butterflies he usually felt in his stomach whenever he saw Cho had been notably absent so far, but now they returned with reinforcements. "I… that is… you're welcome, Cho."

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Cho concentrated on her food for a few minutes before filling the second teacup and offering it to Harry. "Try this," she said.

Harry accepted it, blew on the surface to cool it, and sipped. It had a milder, more subtle flavor than the black tea he was used to. He took a bigger sip and savored it appreciatively. "This is really good," he said.

She nodded. "My parents sell about a hundred different kinds of tea from all over China – blacks, greens, whites, reds, oolongs, jasmines, you name it – and I think I've tried them all at one time or another. This is my favorite."

"Is that what the shop is, a tea shop?"

"Not just tea, we sell all kinds of Chinese imports. See, my dad's a wizard and my mum is a Muggle. So she runs the main shop where we sell mundane stuff – food, fabric, jewelry, even kung-fu movies. Then there's a special room in the back, behind the stockroom, where my dad sells potion ingredients, amulets, and books on Asian magic to our wizarding customers."

"Sounds like an interesting place to grow up," said Harry.

"Oh, it was," she agreed. "My mum's family owned the shop for four generations, all the way back to when Limehouse was the only Chinese neighborhood in London. Most of the old buildings there were destroyed in the blitz; our shop is the last of the original Chinese businesses."

"Was it protected by magic?"

"No, just luck. Mum's family were all Muggles, didn't know anything about magic, until my Uncle Wei got his Hogwarts letter."

"I see. So, how did your parents meet?" Harry asked. He had always been curious about wizard-Muggle marriages; most of the pure-blood wizards he knew didn't have much contact with the Muggle world, even those, like Ron's father, who actually liked Muggles.

"My dad was at Hogwarts at the same time Uncle Wei was, one year behind him. They were the only Chinese students there at the time, so they got to be friends, even though Dad was in Ravenclaw and Uncle Wei was in Hufflepuff. Dad went to visit Wei's family during the summer holidays, and Wei's little sister – my Mum – fell in love with him. The way they tell it, it took her a while to get him to notice her, but when he finally did he fell head over heels for her, and he's been that way ever since." She smiled fondly.

Harry smiled back at her. "That's sweet," he said. "So, how did their parents take it?"

"Well, Mum's parents were delighted; they loved the idea of having another wizard in the family. Dad's parents were a bit harder to persuade, but they came around in the end. I think, when it got down to it, they preferred to see him marry a Chinese Muggle rather than a British witch."

"Huh," Harry said. "I didn't know there were any wizards who felt that way."

"I think ethnicity matters more to Chinese wizards than European ones. The old families here don't seem to care who their heirs marry, as long as they're pure-bloods."

Harry shook his head. "One kind of prejudice doesn't seem any better than the other," he said.

"Oh, I agree," Cho assured him. "None of it makes sense to me. I think you should marry whoever you truly love, wizard, Muggle, Chinese, English, whatever. That's what my parents did."

"Good for them," Harry said. "So… how did they end up running your grandparents' shop? Isn't it usually the oldest son who inherits the family business?"

"Yes, Uncle Wei was supposed to inherit the shop, but he decided he didn't want it. He got a job with the Department of International Magical Cooperation instead, and my parents went to work in the shop. Dad started up the magical side of the business, and it's done really well; he gets things in from China that you can't get anywhere else in Britain, and wizards from all over the country come to buy them."

"What kinds of things?"

"Oh, powdered Re'em blood for strength potions, Demiguise hair, scales and eggshells from Chinese Fireballs… Professor Sprout comes in three or four times a year to buy seeds for some of her plants, and I've seen Professor Snape in the shop a few times, too." She made a face. "I always find I have an errand to run somewhere else when he shows up."

Harry grinned. "I know what you mean. Does he give you a hard time in class, too?"

"Well, he's unpleasant to be around, but I guess I don't have too many problems with him. I'm pretty good at Potions, and anyway we aren't in his class with the Slytherins, so he doesn't play favorites so much. If he picks on anyone in our lessons, it's usually the Hufflepuffs. I gather he's much rougher on Gryffindor, though, and perfectly beastly to you in particular."

Harry's smile turned wry. "Word gets around, eh?"

"Well, there is an open gossip channel between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms, you know."

"Let me guess… the Patil twins?"

"Right in one. Say, didn't you and your friend with the red hair take the two of them to the Yule Ball?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I asked Parvati after…" he stopped, not wanting to say it.

"After I turned you down," Cho finished, very quietly. "I really am sorry about that, Harry – more now than ever."

"S'all right," Harry muttered. "I should have asked you sooner."

"I would have gone with you," she agreed, even more quietly. "I mean, I don't regret… I wouldn't... um. Maybe we should talk about this another time?" She sounded strained, as though she might break down again at any moment.

"Of course, Cho," Harry said, relieved himself at the excuse to change a subject that could quickly become painful for them both. "Um. Why don't you tell me more about your family?"

"Sure. Let's see… My mum's parents retired from running the shop around the time I started at Hogwarts; they bought a little seaside cottage near Lyme Regis. Dad's parents went back to China before I was born – around the time You-Know-Who started killing pure-bloods who disagreed with him. My sister went to stay with them, and eventually my parents did, too – right after they found out they were going to have me. I was born in Hong-Kong, and we only came back to England after You-Know-Who fell."

"I see," said Harry. That was another topic he wasn't eager to talk about – he wanted Cho to like him for who he was now, not to think of him as the Boy-Who-Lived. "So, what's your sister like?" he asked.

"Liu? She's great. She's about eight years older than I am, so we were never at Hogwarts together, but we're really close all the same – she always has time for me when Mum and Dad are busy. She's studying to be a Healer; says she got interested in that because she's had so much experience patching me up when I was first learning to fly."

Harry gave a snort of laughter. "I guess that would be good practice," he said. "At least if she wants to specialize in Quidditch injuries."

"She is thinking about that, actually." Cho paused. "You know, speaking of Liu, she's probably getting worried about me – I was supposed to come home from Marietta's after dinner this evening. Are there any owls here, so I can send her a message to let her know I'm all right?"

"Mmm," said Harry. "My owl is here, but I'll have to ask Professor Dumbledore if it's all right. The thing is, this place is supposed to be secret, from the Ministry as well as the Death Eaters, so I don't know if sending messages is safe."

"But… how long will I have to stay here? If Liu doesn't hear from me tonight, she'll get in touch with Marietta's parents and find out that I was never there, and next thing you know she'll have the Department of Magical Law Enforcement out looking for me."

"Oh, I'm sure Dumbledore will want to let your sister know what happened and that you're all right, but he'll probably want to send someone from the Order to tell her in person."

"The Order?"

Harry mentally kicked himself. "I don't suppose you could forget I mentioned that?"

"I don't suppose I could. Harry, what's the Order?"

Harry hesitated, wondering how to recover his slip of the tongue without spoiling his growing rapport with Cho. Finally, he said, "Look, I don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you about what's been going on since the end of last term. I don't know very much of it myself, but I'm going to try to find out more from Dumbledore tonight, and tomorrow I'll tell you whatever I can, all right?"

"All right," she said, reluctantly.

"I'm really sorry I can't tell you more right now," he said. "But if I tell you anything Dumbledore really doesn't want you to know, he'll probably use a Memory Charm to make you forget it. I don't think you need anyone messing with your mind any more than necessary."

"No. That Legilimency thing was more than enough." She shivered, looking down at her tray. The bowl was empty, only about a third of one roll remained, and what little tea was left in the pot was quickly going cold. "Well," she said, returning her attention to Harry, "I'm finished, and Dumbledore is waiting for you, so I guess I'll take that potion now."

"All right." Harry refilled her tumbler with water, then pulled the stopper from the flask of sleeping potion and used one of the teaspoons from the platter to measure out one dose. He stirred it into the water until the blue tint vanished, then handed her the glass.

She paused before drinking it. "Thanks for staying with me, Harry," she said. "Talking with you like this, I could almost forget that the last twenty-four hours ever happened."

"I'm glad I could help," Harry replied. "Is there anything else I can do?"

She hesitated before answering. "I think… would you hold my hand again, until I fall asleep?"

"Of course." Cho held out her hand, and Harry clasped it gently. She raised the glass to her lips, but then hesitated again. "Can you… be here when I wake up, Harry? Would that be all right? I… I don't want to be alone."

"If it's not all right, I'll make it all right," Harry said with conviction. "I won't leave you alone, Cho; I promise."

She nodded gratefully and drained the glass. Without letting go of his hand, she set the glass back on the night table and lay back on her pillow. She smiled up at Harry as he tucked the covers up to her chin.

He could see the potion taking effect; her eyelids drooped, and she yawned. "Thanks again, Harry," she murmured. "For everything."

"You're welcome, Cho," he said. "Sleep well."

"G'night." She rolled onto her side, and her breathing slowed and deepened as she drifted off to sleep.

Harry carefully released her hand, but didn't get up immediately. Instead, he sat and watched her sleep, thinking back over everything they'd said. What struck him most about their conversation, though, was what she had left unsaid: she hadn't asked the questions he'd been dreading, about the Third Task and Cedric's murder. _Why?_ he wondered. She couldn't possibly have gotten over Cedric so soon. Harry had spent six agonizing months watching them: dancing at the Yule Ball, holding hands in the corridors, smiling over some shared in-joke… they were the perfect couple, the couple he'd always imagined his parents were when they met at Hogwarts… the kind of couple _he_ wanted to be with Cho – until she looked at Cedric. No, there was no way she could be over his death. She'd wept too bitterly at the memory of it – the only thing in her entire recitation of horrors that had broken her self-control.

So why didn't she ask? She wasn't too tired – for all she'd been awake a day and half, for all she'd endured, she'd been alert, animated, more articulate than Harry thought he could possibly have been after a comparable ordeal. It had taken Dumbledore's potion to get her to sleep. _It must have been Fawkes,_ Harry thought, remembering how the phoenix's song had banished, at least temporarily, his own exhaustion of body and spirit in the Chamber of Secrets, and again in Dumbledore's office after the Third Task. _Fawkes and that wonderful tea…._

She wanted to ask, Harry was sure of that, so why didn't she? One possibility crossed his mind: _Could it be she felt sorry for_ me?_ Could it be she realized _I_ wasn't ready to talk about it?_ The butterflies in his stomach seemed to transfigure themselves into Kneazles and dance a jig.

But maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe _she_ wasn't ready. Harry recalled how he'd sealed his own pain behind a semblance of normalcy, those first few days after the Tournament – making small talk with Ron and Hermione, watching their chess games, playing Exploding Snap with the twins on the train ride back to London…. Perhaps, by chatting with him about her family, Cho had been doing the same thing. After all, _she_ had changed the subject when it came close to touching on her relationship with Cedric….

Harry stood up and stretched, relieving the kinks in his back from sitting still so long. He took a last long look at the sleeping girl. In repose, her delicate features looked younger – like the face of a little girl, not that of a young woman a year Harry's senior. On impulse, he leaned over and, very gently, kissed her on the cheek. "Hermione's right," he murmured. "You deserve to know the truth. And when you're ready to hear it, I promise I'll be ready to tell you."

_All right,_ he thought as he doused the bedside lamp. _Let's see what Dumbledore has to say._

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	7. Chapter 6: Consultation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Consultation**

Said a wise man to one in deep sorrow, "I did not come to comfort you; God only can do that; but I did come to say how deeply and tenderly I feel for you in your affliction."

--Tryon Edwards

Back in the common room, Harry found Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and Dumbledore seated around one of the tables, with a pot of tea in the center. Fawkes perched on the headmaster's shoulder with his head tucked under one wing, apparently sleeping; Lupin and the captured Death Eater were nowhere to be seen.

"How is she, Harry?" Sirius asked as Harry approached their table.

"She's seems to be dealing with it all right," Harry replied, pulling up a chair between Ron and Hermione. "Probably better than I did last month, to tell the truth."

"Indeed, Miss Chang seems remarkably resilient," said Dumbledore. "You should not disparage your own strength of spirit, though, Harry. If Miss Chang appears less affected by her misadventure than you were by yours, I think that it is due in part to your support."

Harry felt his face heat. "Oh, I didn't do that much," he said quickly. "Really, I think Fawkes helped more than I did. Thanks for bringing him, Professor – and Dobby. I think that green tea of his cheered her up a bit, too."

"It is good, isn't it?" said Hermione, setting down her teacup.

"Very. So, what did you do with our other guest?"

"Tied him to a chair in the wine cellar," said Sirius. "I thought an hour or so in total darkness with only Moony for company might make him more inclined to cooperate."

"That was not necessary," said Dumbledore. "Though it might be considered poetic justice, in view of the ways in which he and his cohorts abused Miss Chang. In any case, as soon as I learned that you had taken a prisoner, I contacted Severus Snape and asked him to bring a dose of Veritaserum. He should be here shortly."

"Ah," said Sirius, rising from his seat. "I believe I'll go tend to Buckbeak. Let me know when he's gone, will you?"

"As you wish, Sirius," said Dumbledore dryly.

"I think I'll join you," said Ron. "Coming, you two?"

Hermione shot Harry a questioning glance. "Go ahead," he told her. "I have to talk with Professor Dumbledore anyway, and I want to hear what that thug has to say, but there's no reason you should have to put up with Snape's idea of friendly conversation."

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected.

"Fine. _Professor_ Snape's idea of friendly conversation. Sir."

Dumbledore sighed. "Given the nature of your relationship with Professor Snape, I suppose that is as much respect as I can ask for, outside his presence. I must insist that you at least attempt to be civil while he is here, though, Harry."

"I will if he will, sir."

The headmaster frowned, but didn't press the point. Sirius, Ron, and Hermione decamped through the kitchen, and Dumbledore rose to his feet. The phoenix, awakened by the movement, pulled his head out from under his wing and cooed reproachfully. Dumbledore reached up and stroked his feathers. "You may go home, now, Fawkes," he said. "I will return there later this evening." Fawkes spread his wings and glided across the room to the fireplace, where he vanished in a flash of the same golden fire that had heralded his arrival.

Dumbledore gestured Harry over to one of the armchairs facing the large window. Harry sat, and Dumbledore took the other chair of the pair, turning it to face out the window. Harry followed suit. In the distance, he could see the white beam of the Flamborough Head lighthouse turning endlessly in the night.

"First, Harry," said Dumbledore, "you should know that you deserve the highest of commendations for your courage today. Had you not acted as you did, it is virtually certain that Miss Chang would now be dead, and Sirius and Remus would be either dead or prisoners of Lord Voldemort. For that, you have my deepest gratitude. Once again, you have shouldered the burden of an adult wizard, and shown yourself equal to it. That it was necessary for you to do so today, though, represents a serious failure of planning and preparation on my part. For that, you have my sincere apologies."

"Sir?" Harry asked, confused.

"I had not failed to notice your attraction to Miss Chang, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "I was also aware that you had asked her to the ball before you asked Miss Patil."

"How, sir? I didn't think anyone overheard us…."

"No students or teachers were present," Dumbledore agreed. "However, you were standing by the portrait of Laverne de Montmorency. Laverne is prone to gossip, and the portrait of one of her closest friends, headmistress Griselda Morrison, hangs in my office."

"I see," said Harry.

"In any case, I should have anticipated that Miss Chang was a potential target for Voldemort. I have members of the Order checking up regularly on all of the Gryffindors in your year, and I have prepared the necessary materials to cast a Location Charm on any one of them who should turn up missing. I should have done the same for Miss Chang."

"I see," Harry said again. "Well… I suppose no one can possibly think of everything, sir."

"No," the headmaster agreed heavily. "That does not relieve those of us in positions of responsibility of the obligation to try, however."

Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "What I don't understand is how _Macnair_ knew that I fancied Cho. I mean, _he_ couldn't have heard it from one of the Hogwarts portraits…."

"That," said Dumbledore, "is one of the things I hope to learn from the prisoner."

"Well," said Harry, "I guess that will have to wait until Sn— Professor Snape arrives."

"Indeed. In the meantime, Harry, I would like to hear your version of today's events."

"All right," said Harry. Over the next ten minutes, he related all that had happened that afternoon and evening, beginning with the raven delivering Macnair's chilling message. Dumbledore remained silent beside him, listening. Harry shuddered in remembered terror as he told of Sirius's fall to the reflected Stunning Spell, and the axe stroke that had come within inches of killing Cho. When he reached his brief exchange of words with Macnair, however, he hesitated. How would Dumbledore react if Harry told him? On the other hand, he thought, the headmaster was not an easy man to deceive.

"I… sort of dared Macnair to go for his wand, and if he had I would have tried to cast _Avada Kedavra._ I really think I could have done it. I've never been that angry before in my life, and I could _feel_ the power of it in my wand arm."

Harry was looking down at his shoes as he spoke, but he could sense Dumbledore's gaze on him. "I thank you for your honesty, Harry," the headmaster said. "That cannot have been an easy admission to make."

"I feel as though… as though this makes me like them. Like Voldemort."

"No, Harry. Every person has a breaking point – some circumstance under which, no matter how kind or peaceful they might be ordinarily, they will find it in themselves to kill. It speaks well of your character that you felt you could not slay Macnair while he faced you unarmed – and more, that finding that rage within yourself disturbs you. Voldemort revels in his power to kill, and delights in using it; you feel ashamed of it, and refrained from using it in the face of a provocation that would have driven many good wizards to murder."

"I didn't kill Macnair, but I didn't stun him, either. I let him get away."

"Ah. We can never truly know whether a choice is 'right' or not until we have seen and judged all of its consequences, Harry. It is possible that, eventually, you will have good cause to regret that you did not stun Macnair – or even that you did not take his life. On the other hand, hard as it may be to believe, it is also possible that you will someday have cause to feel thankful that he escaped today."

"I can't imagine how, sir."

"Consider this, Harry: Macnair's plot failed today. That failure cost Lord Voldemort two followers, a base that he might have used in other plots, and a means of striking at you – for you can be assured that Miss Chang will not be left unprotected again. Who knows what Macnair's next failure may cost?"

Harry smiled grimly. "Knowing Voldemort, it'll cost Macnair his life," he said.

"That is a strong possibility," Dumbledore agreed. "Now, what happened after Macnair Disapparated?"

Harry described the encounter with the dementors, and the way his Patronus had touched Cho and nodded at him before vanishing. Finally, Harry told how the last Death Eater had nearly struck him down, before being struck down himself by Buckbeak. "I still can't believe I let him get that close," he concluded. "I should have checked that all the ones outside were down as soon as Macnair was gone. Instead I tried to help Cho, and nearly got us both killed."

"Your concern for Miss Chang was admirable," Dumbledore told him, "and as you said earlier, nobody can think of everything."

"And you said… what was it? Those in positions of responsibility still have to try."

"That is true, Harry. I regret that circumstances – including my own mistakes – have placed you in such a position at so young an age; given that, I cannot fault the way you have risen to the challenges before you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said.

"You are welcome. Is there anything more?"

"I don't think… no, wait, there was one other thing. Just after the fight, when we were outside the cabin waiting for Sirius, my scar hurt. I think… I had the feeling Voldemort was using the Cruciatus Curse on Macnair."

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "That brings us to the other reason I needed to talk to you, Harry. Has your scar been troubling you often since Voldemort returned?"

"Yes, professor. Every two or three days. Today was the strongest one yet, though… and as I said, there was something more to it. It was like I could feel what he was feeling… I don't know how else to describe it."

"I believe that by using your blood in the potion that restored him, Voldemort may have unwittingly strengthened your connection to him – and therein lies both a danger and an opportunity."

"Opportunity, sir? The danger I can understand, but what's the opportunity?"

"I don't believe that you do understand it completely. You have no doubt been wondering why I told you not to look me in the eye tonight?"

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed.

"It is because Voldemort is exceptionally skilled in the art of Legilimency. For you to meet the gaze of another powerful Legilimens, particularly one who he hates and fears, might catch his attention and make him aware of the link between you. Should that occur, he may attempt to possess you as he did Professor Quirrell and Ginny Weasley, and use you to strike at me – not in the hope of harming me, but in the hope that, in defending myself, I might be forced to harm you."

Harry was quiet a moment, digesting this unwelcome revelation. Finally he said, "Sir? _Why_ is Voldemort so obsessed with me? I mean, he got what he wanted from me, didn't he? He's alive again, and I don't have that protection that drove him out of Quirrell's body anymore, so why should he put so much time and effort into attacking _me_?"

"Ah. We will get to that in a moment, Harry; today's events have proven that it is past time you knew the truth about Voldemort's attack on you when you were a baby, and his continuing obsession with you – for an obsession it most certainly is. However, I regret to say that I can only give you a partial answer at this time, because of the other aspect of the danger your scar represents. It is possible that Voldemort could use the connection between you as a channel for his Legilimency, to learn any secrets with which I might entrust you. It is therefore imperative that you receive training in Occlumency, so that you may recognize and block any such attempt on his part."

"How could I do that? I mean, he's so powerful… you really think I could learn to block him?"

"Oh yes, Harry. Occlumency is inherently more powerful than Legilimency. As a few men guarding the walls of a strong castle may withstand the assault of a great army, so an Occlumens of even moderate skill, secure in the fortress of his own mind, may block the probe of the mightiest Legilimens. The difficult part of Occlumency is doing so in such a way that the Legilimens does not realize he is being blocked; the level of skill that would allow you to _deceive_ Lord Voldemort would take years to acquire. But that should not be necessary. If you work at it, you should be able to block him from your mind within a matter of months."

"I see, sir. So… who's going to teach me?"

"I will instruct you in the theory myself, Harry. However, it would be unwise for you to practice blocking a Legilimentic probe against me. Instead, you will receive practical instruction from Professor Snape."

"Oh," Harry said, his voice conveying a profound lack of enthusiasm for this prospect.

Dumbledore sighed. "I know that you do not get along with Professor Snape, Harry, but he is the only other teacher at Hogwarts with sufficient skill at both Occlumency and Legilimency to supervise your practical training. And consider this: when you truly _need_ to use Occlumency, it will not be against anyone you like or trust."

"I guess that makes sense," said Harry grudgingly. "So… you were going to tell me why Voldemort hates me – or at least part of it."

"Yes, Harry. I will tell you the part of which he is already aware; you will learn the rest when I am convinced that you are ready to keep him from learning it from you. Voldemort hates and fears you because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. One of his spies overheard the first part of that prophecy: that "the one with the power to destroy the Dark Lord" would be born at the end of July, to parents who had three times defied him.

"I see," said Harry. "So… am I the only person it could have meant?"

"Strangely enough, Harry, you are not; there were two young couples who met that description, and both of them had sons born at the end of July that year. However, there is a second part of the prophecy, which Voldemort did not know, but which I think poses little danger now, as it has already been fulfilled. It stated that 'the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal.' The night he gave you that scar, he proved beyond a doubt that the prophecy referred to you."

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, who was the other boy it could have meant? I mean, if he was born at the same time I was, he should be in my year at Hogwarts, right?"

"Correct, Harry. It was Neville Longbottom."

Harry thought about that. Somehow, he couldn't imagine Neville – chubby, hapless Neville, with his terrible memory and clumsy spell casting – Neville, the worst student in Harry's year in almost every subject – as the one person with the power to defeat Lord Voldemort. On the other hand, he was having a hard time imagining himself in that role, too.

Finally, he set the matter aside and asked, "What's the opportunity you mentioned? I can understand why this link with Voldemort is dangerous, but I can't see what's good about it."

"As long as Voldemort is not aware of the connection, you may be able to pick up hints of what he is feeling and doing, as you did this afternoon. I would ask particularly that you tell me the details of any unusually vivid dreams you may have over the next few months; when you are asleep and Voldemort is awake, your mind will be more receptive to his thoughts."

"But… won't learning Occlumency keep that from happening, sir?"

"Not necessarily, Harry. It should, however, enable you to distinguish between a true vision given to you inadvertently, and a false one planted deliberately. Only in the latter case would Voldemort be using Legilimency against you; a true vision would come from you using a rudimentary, uncontrolled form of Legilimency against him."

"All right. In that case—" Harry broke off as the front door swung open. The man who stepped inside looked over at Harry, and his brows drew down into a scowl of deep hostility.

"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore, rising from his chair to greet the newcomer. "I'm glad you could make it. Do you have the Veritaserum?"

"As you requested, headmaster," the Potions Master replied. "Where is the prisoner?"

"In the wine cellar. Remus Lupin is keeping an eye on him." Snape's scowl deepened, but he made no comment. Pointedly ignoring Harry, he followed Dumbledore toward the cellar door.

"Come along, Harry," said Dumbledore, glancing over his shoulder. "I think you've earned the right to be present for this interrogation."

Harry followed Dumbledore and Snape down the steep wooden stairs to the wine cellar. The air smelled cool and moist, quite unlike the room they'd just left. Sirius had left the cellar in complete darkness, but the enchanted candles set in sconces on the wall lit as they passed, just as they had elsewhere in the inn.

The Death Eater sat in the center of the room, several turns of rope binding each wrist and ankle to his chair, with more wrapped around his torso. He was conscious now, but looked far from recovered – his face was deathly pale, and his dark hair was matted with sweat despite the chill of the wine cellar. Lupin sat behind him like an alert guard dog. As Dumbledore reached the bottom of the stairs, the werewolf rose and padded across the cellar to stand before him. "Thank you, Remus," Dumbledore said. "You may remain if you wish, or join Sirius in the stable yard."

Lupin looked past Dumbledore at Snape; his pointed ears flattened against his skull, and the fur on his back rippled ominously. His lip curled into a hint of a snarl, exposing just the tips of his sharp white fangs. Snape looked down at him with an expression of great distaste.

Harry had only seen Lupin as a werewolf once before, in his third year. Then he was like a cornered beast, clawing and snarling even at the people he knew and loved. It was the pain of the transformation, Lupin had told him, which caused his violent attacks. This wolf, with its unsettling intelligence and aura of controlled menace, was what Lupin became when he took Snape's potion, and in a way it was more frightening than his earlier berserk frenzy.

Finally, the werewolf looked up at Dumbledore and gave a quick shake of his head; then he stalked past Snape and up the stairs.

Dumbledore, Harry, and Snape approached the bound man, who stared up at them. Emotions chased each other across his youthful features: defiance, terror, a flash of hope quickly suppressed, and finally a kind of sullen wariness that Harry felt certain was as much a mask as the skull face he'd worn back at the cottage. Dumbledore stopped and conjured his high-backed chair again, sitting down face-to-face with the Death Eater. "May I get you a chair, Severus?" he asked.

"No, thank you, Headmaster; I prefer to stand."

"As you will. What about you, Harry?"

"I'll stand, too," said Harry tightly. Facing one of the men who had so terrorized Cho, he felt tense as a coiled spring; he admired Dumbledore's ability to relax in the Death Eater's presence, but he couldn't imagine doing it himself. Instead he stood at a sort of parade rest, his hands clasped behind him and his back straight as a wand.

The Death Eater glared at him for a moment, but shifted his attention to Dumbledore as the headmaster cleared his throat. "Good evening, Rupert," he said.

The man looked startled for a moment at being addressed so cordially, but quickly recovered. "Evening, Professor," he said. His voice was rather nasal, quite different from the Malfoys' characteristic drawl, but Harry thought he detected something of the same superciliousness. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you that very question," Dumbledore replied.

"Why, do you think I tied myself to this chair? Why don't you ask _him_?" He jerked his chin at Harry. "I'm not the one keeping company with werewolves and wanted criminals. Did you know that Sirius Black was here?"

"Naturally," said Dumbledore. "I spoke with him at length just a little while ago. Perhaps I should rephrase the question. What were you doing at that cottage in Argyllshire, and with whom were you doing it? I know that Walden Macnair was there, but who were your other companions?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man muttered, lowering his eyes to avoid Dumbledore's penetrating stare.

"Oh, come now, Steggles," Snape said softly, "You can do better than that. When you were in my House you were a far more creative liar."

The man snorted and glanced up at the Potions Master. "Never did me any good, though, did it?"

"No," Snape agreed.

"I suppose you're here to dose with me with Veritaserum. Go ahead, I could use a drink just now."

"Thank you for your cooperation," said Snape. "That's more sense than I would have expected from you."

The man shrugged, as well as he could while tied up. "If I didn't cooperate, you'd just stun me and pour it down my throat, right? My head hurts enough as it is."

"Indeed. Here you are, Steggles." Snape drew a small, stoppered glass bottle from his pocket.

"In water, if you don't mind," said Rupert Steggles. "I told you, I need a drink."

"Very well," said Dumbledore. He drew his wand and conjured a glass of water. Snape carefully tipped three drops of clear liquid from his bottle into the glass, then took it and held it to the prisoner's lips. The man drank greedily, without hesitation. As Snape took back the empty glass, the Death Eater's eyes lost focus and his features began to go slack. "Funny," he muttered, "he said it wouldn't work…."

"What wouldn't work, Rupert?" Dumbledore asked.

"Veritaserum. Said the potion he gave us would make us immune. Guess he was wrong."

"A potion to make one immune to Veritaserum? Severus?"

"I know of no such potion," said Snape. "But it is possible the Dark Lord might have invented one… or attempted to."

"We shall have to take that into consideration," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "Veritaserum may not be entirely reliable any more. Tell me, Rupert, whose idea was it to abduct Miss Chang?"

"Terry's," the Death Eater replied. "Terry's little sister told him that Harry Potter's in love with – uh!" The man's voice choked off suddenly, and he gave a strangled gasp.

"What's wrong?" Dumbledore asked sharply, but Steggles could not answer. His face darkened and he strained against the ropes, his eyes bulging out of his head. Dumbledore whipped out his wand and released the ropes with a single wordless gesture. Steggles tumbled forward out of the chair, and Snape caught him and laid him on his back on the floor. Flecks of foam had appeared at the corners of his mouth, and he writhed in agony, trying in vain to breathe. Dumbledore spoke low and fast, a complex incantation that Harry couldn't follow. Light flared from his wand, but whatever the spell was, it didn't work. The Death Eater's eyes rolled back in his head, and his convulsing body went abruptly limp.

Snape touched two fingers to the man's throat, as Harry had done with Cho outside the cottage earlier that evening. After a moment, he rose, shaking his head. "Dead," he said.

"How?" Dumbledore asked. Harry shivered; he had heard that tone of cold rage from the headmaster only once before, when Dumbledore had unmasked the Death Eater who had spent the previous year impersonating his old friend Alastor Moody.

"I'll have to examine his body to find out for sure," said Snape, "But I would guess that the potion he was given, which he thought would make him immune to Veritaserum, in fact combined with it to form a deadly poison."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds like Voldemort's style. A potion of immunity might be counteracted by another potion, or circumvented by using Legilimency instead of Veritaserum. The dead answer no questions. Well. Perhaps we can discover an antidote, but until we do, we dare not use Veritaserum to interrogate captive Death Eaters."

"Most unfortunate," said Snape. "Still, I don't think we need shed any tears over Steggles."

Dumbledore sighed. "I grieve that he joined Voldemort's side in the first place. His actions could only have led to his death or life imprisonment in Azkaban."

"Some would call that a fate worse than death," said Harry. "Though I suspect Azkaban isn't as escape-proof as it used to be."

"True, with at least some dementors having gone over to Voldemort, it can only be a matter of time before the Death Eaters imprisoned there are freed to rejoin their master. I fear that once that happens, the Ministry may resort to the same extreme measures Crouch authorized during the last war."

"No quarter," muttered Snape.

"Indeed, and some who might have been redeemed will instead be slain by Aurors. Thus do we become that which we most fear."

"Do we, sir?" asked Harry. "I mean, if we can't keep them locked up, how are we supposed to stop them? It's not as if our side goes around kidnapping and torturing innocent girls. The difference between Cho and Steggles is that Steggles had it coming."

"That may be true, Harry," said Dumbledore, "but we must not be too quick to judge who deserves death. I myself helped send an innocent man to Azkaban, once; had our laws been different, I might have helped send Sirius to his death, and we might never have learned of his innocence."

"Maybe so, sir," Harry said. "But there's no doubt this time. After hearing what they did to Cho, and what they were planning to do, I can't help thinking that he just got what all four of them deserved."

Before Dumbledore could reply, Snape sneered, "Careful, Saint Potter. We wouldn't want to tarnish that squeaky-clean hero image of yours, now, would we?"

"You really think I care?" Harry retorted, matching Snape sneer for sneer. "Ron and Hermione know who I am, and so do Sirius and Professor Dumbledore, and so does Cho. That's enough for me. The rest of the wizarding world can say whatever they like about me. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go tell Sirius what happened here."

Harry turned and stalked up the stairs. Back in the common room, he paused, breathing hard. _Why does Snape always have to do that?_ He thought. _We're not even at school, and still he has to yank my chain every chance he gets._

Even as he thought it, the cellar door creaked open behind him. "So, Potter," said Snape, in the deceptively soft voice he always used when he had something especially venomous to say, "I see you have as little regard for rules outside of school as you do at Hogwarts."

Harry spun around, his temper rising. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Snape smiled nastily. "Tut, Potter. A little more respect for your elders."

"What for? As you just pointed out, _Professor,_ we're not at school right now. You can't put me in detention or take points from Gryffindor, and there's no Malfoy here to enjoy the show, so how about giving it a rest? I only did what I had to do."

"It was not up to _you_ to rescue Miss Chang, boy."

"Actually, as things turned out, it was. If I'd followed the 'rules,' as you put it, Sirius and Lupin and Cho would all be dead now. And where were you, anyway, when the Death Eaters were plotting to use Cho to lure me out of Privet Drive? I thought you were the one keeping an eye on them."

Snape's face darkened with rage, and he ground out, "My work for the Order of the Phoenix is none of your business, boy!"

"Not even when your failures can get me or my friends killed? Maybe you don't care about me or Lupin or Sirius, but what the hell has Cho ever done to deserve…?"

Snape appeared to bite back another furious retort. Instead, his lips curled in a sneer. "You, of all people, should know better than that, Potter. But then, gratitude was never your greatest virtue, was it?"

As he stared at Snape, Harry's anger drained away, leaving him feeling empty and immensely weary. "Can we just give it a rest, please?" he asked tiredly.

"Give what a rest, Potter?"

"This. Always having a go at each other. You don't like me. Fine. I don't much like you either. But this isn't Hogwarts, and we've both got better things to do right now than stand here trading insults."

"Why, Mr. Potter, I do believe you might be starting to grow up," Snape said sarcastically. "In another few years you might even manage to act your age."

"Maybe so," Harry muttered, turning away.

"Very well. I do, as you say, have better things to do than bandy words with you." He brushed past Harry, headed for the door.

"Professor?"

Snape spun around and glared at Harry. "_What,_ Potter?"

"I don't think I've ever thanked you for saving my life, back during my first Quidditch match."

"No, I don't believe you have," Snape replied, his voice oozing scorn. "That was what, nearly four years ago?"

"Yeah. Well… thanks, Professor."

Snape glared even harder, his nostrils flaring. "I would have done the same for any of my students, however incompetent or irritating they might be."

"I know that. All the same, thanks. And for what it's worth, I'm glad you're on our side."

Snape glared at Harry for a moment more, seemingly at a loss for words. Finally, he shook his head irritably and swept out the front door. Harry heard him Disapparate as it shut behind him.

"That was very mature of you, Harry," said Dumbledore, emerging from the stairwell.

"Yeah, well," said Harry, "It's easier to put up with his needling when that's all he can do. Anyway, my being polite to him seemed to get under his skin even more than being rude."

"Indeed, Harry. Remember, the single worst thing your father ever did to Severus, from his point of view, was saving his life."

"Yeah. I'll have to remember that; he can't very well put me in detention for excessively good manners, can he?"

"Such a detention could be appealed to Professor McGonagall or myself," Dumbledore agreed.

"And maybe if I keep at it long enough, he'll give up trying to get my goat," Harry concluded.

"That would be salutary, especially since you and Professor Snape will have extra lessons together this year so that he may train you in the use of Occlumency."

"Yeah. Um, Professor, I was wondering how I should explain why I'm having extra lessons with Professor Snape? We don't want the whole school to know that I'm learning Occlumency, do we?"

"No, Harry. If anyone asks, tell them you're taking extra instruction in Potions to prepare for your O.W.L.s."

"No offense, sir, but I'm not sure anyone who knows how I feel about Potions class would believe that."

"Ordinarily, that might be true, Harry. However, I understand that you have expressed some interest in applying for Auror training after you graduate from Hogwarts. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement requires all Auror candidates to have a N.E.W.T. in Potions, and as Professor Snape only accepts students in his N.E.W.T.-level class who earn the highest possible mark on their O.W.L.s, taking extra Potions lessons would be a wise choice for a student wishing to pursue that career."

Harry grimaced wryly. "In other words, if I ever want to be an Auror I'd better work hard in Potions this year – and finish learning Occlumency as fast as I can so that I really can start taking extra lessons."

"As I said, that would be a wise choice. Now, Harry, I must take Steggles' body back to Hogwarts so that Professor Snape can attempt to learn the nature of the poison that killed him. Is there anything else you wish to ask before I leave?"

"No, I don't think… no, wait a minute, there is something. Two things, actually. First, Cho wanted me to ask you to let her sister know that she's all right, before she sends the Aurors out looking for her."

"I am aware of that necessity," Dumbledore said. "Some of the younger members of the Order attended Hogwarts at the same time as the elder Miss Chang; one of them will contact her this evening. Now, what was your second question?"

"How much can I tell Cho about what's going on? She's going to have questions when she wakes up tomorrow, and I'd like to be able to give her straight answers. After what she's been through, I think she deserves that."

"I quite agree, Harry. Having examined her mind in considerable detail this evening, I am confident that Miss Chang is as worthy of our trust as Mister Weasley and Miss Granger. You may feel free to share with her any information with which I have entrusted the three of you."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry.

"You are welcome, Harry. Good night." Dumbledore turned and disappeared back into the wine cellar, closing the door behind him; a moment later, Harry heard the familiar, explosive sound of his Disapparition.

Harry went into the kitchen and found Dobby stocking it with bags, bottles and jars of various foods, levitating them out of several crates that stood open in the middle of the room and floating them up to the shelves that lined the walls. "Hello, Harry Potter!" said the house elf cheerfully.

"Hello, Dobby. Are my friends out this way?" He gestured to a door in the back of the kitchen.

"Yes, indeed, Harry Potter." The elf flicked one hand at the door, and it swung open.

The inn's stable yard was well-lit by lanterns hung from hooks set in the stone walls that surrounded it. In one corner, Ron, Hermione, and Sirius sat on bales of hay arranged in a circle, using a crate in the center as a table on which to play cards.

"Ah, Harry," said Sirius, looking up from the fan of cards in his hand. "Is Snape gone?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Dumbledore, too."

"Good, we can move this back inside. Care to join us? Maybe you can win some of my family fortune back from Hermione; at this point she's won just about everything but the robes on our backs."

"Yeah, Hermione," Ron smiled, "have a little mercy. Besides, you know the saying: lucky at cards…"

"Be a dear, Ron," Hermione said with a grim sort of smile, "and don't finish that sentence."

"What are you playing?" Harry quickly interrupted.

"Double Fanucci. I brought the deck back with me from Argyllshire; that's what the three Death Eaters out in the yard there were playing. Speaking of which, what did the one we caught have to say for himself?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," Harry replied. "He's dead."

"Dead? How?" asked Hermione, aghast.

"We're not completely sure, but it seems Voldemort's invented a potion that mixes with Veritaserum in the blood to form a poison."

"Ouch. Bad news, if it's true," said Sirius. "Well, Snape and Dumbledore will solve it if anyone can; magical poisons almost always have antidotes."

"You know," observed Ron, "I think that's the first nice thing I've ever heard you say about Snape. Are you feeling all right?"

Sirius laughed. "Don't get me wrong, Ron, Snape's a right bastard, and I'd trust him about as far as I could comfortably spit our old friend Wormtail, but he does know his alchemy. Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him to teach Potions if he didn't. Anyway, let's move this game back inside; it's getting chilly out here."

Sirius, Ron, and Hermione folded their hands, and Harry picked up the rest of the cards and the wooden betting tokens from their makeshift table. Back in the common room, they continued to play while Sirius explained the complicated rules to Harry, before dealing him in on the next hand. A few hands later, Harry reflected that it was a very good thing they weren't really playing for money – otherwise, Hermione would own not only Sirius's family fortune but the entire contents of Harry's Gringotts vault as well. The hand after that, however, Ron, who had been playing very conservatively all evening, pulled off a spectacular bluff that left him holding nearly all the tokens.

They broke off the game then because Dobby emerged from the kitchen to announce that dinner was ready. Harry, who'd been too keyed up before to think about food, discovered he was ravenously hungry. The house elf had prepared an excellent meal of roast chicken, boiled potatoes, and steamed asparagus, with a bread pudding for dessert. While they ate, Harry told the others about his conversations with Cho and Dumbledore, including the latter's supposition about the connection between Harry and Voldemort and the necessity that Harry learn Occlumency. However, he avoided any mention of his attempt to provoke Macnair into drawing his wand, or of the prophecy; he wanted more time to think about that before discussing it with anyone.

When they had all finished eating, Sirius pushed back from the table and said, "The Double Fanucci deck wasn't the only thing I brought back from the Death Eaters' cottage. Come and have a look at what I found in the cellar there."

He led them back out to the stable yard and lifted up a canvas cloth that was covering some of the hay bales at one side of the yard. Under it were four racing brooms, with streamlined tails and handles of a highly polished, pale gold hardwood. "Spoils of war," said Sirius proudly.

"Oh, wow," said Harry. "Are those what I think they are?"

"Yup," said Ron, grinning broadly. "Four brand-new Nimbus Hyperions – one for Sirius, one for Lupin, and one for me."

"What about the fourth?"

"Sirius offered it to me," said Hermione, "but I don't really fly that much, and when I have to I prefer something a bit slower and more stable. I told him to keep it for the Order."

"I see," said Harry. "Well, those should certainly make our next game of two-on-two Quidditch more interesting.

"I'll say," said Ron. "You might actually have to work for your goals next time, instead of simply flying rings around the rest of us with your Firebolt."

"Well," said Sirius, with a feral grin, "now that you've seen the brooms, I think I might go out for a run. Moony's out there somewhere; it'll be like old times…."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Hermione. "I mean, suppose you're seen?"

"All anyone will see is a couple of stray dogs," Sirius assured her. "After all, there haven't been any wolves in Yorkshire for centuries. Besides, we never got caught at school, and we were a lot more reckless then."

Harry smiled. "I wish I could go with you," he said. "But since I can't, give an extra howl for me, all right -- Padfoot?"

Sirius barked a laugh and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Some day you will," he said. "I bet you'll make a magnificent stag. Sleep well, Harry, and I'll see you in the morning." Stepping back, Sirius transformed, his body shifting and flowing downward until the massive black dog stood facing Harry. Then he turned, took a running start, and bounded out of the stable yard, clearing the eight-foot fieldstone wall with room to spare.

The others went back inside. Hermione had found a suite of rooms behind the inn's front desk, evidently intended as living quarters for the owner; the front sitting room had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covering most of three walls, which she began browsing avidly. Harry and Ron left her to it and went to sit in the two big armchairs where Harry had had his talk with Dumbledore, looking out the window at the lighthouse in the distance. "So," said Ron, "what about Macnair?"

"What about him?" Harry echoed, warily.

"Why didn't you Stun him? Come on, give."

"All right," said Harry. "You have to understand, when he reflected Sirius's Stunning Spell, I think I must have been in shock. Everything seemed to be moving too slowly – especially me. He was going to kill Cho, and I couldn't move _fast_ enough, and I couldn't even be sure the spell would work – I might have Disarmed myself, just like Sirius Stunned himself, you see? God… when the spell hit him, that bloody great axe of his was _that_ close…." he held up his thumb and forefinger, about three inches apart. "I'm going to have nightmares about that, I think."

"All right, but why didn't you Stun the git once you had the axe out of his hands?"

"Because… because I wanted him dead, you understand? I _couldn't_ do it while he was unarmed, but if he'd reached for his wand I would have cast _Avada Kedavra._ I really think I could have done it; I was that angry."

Ron shivered. "You're not kidding?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not. And after hearing what he had in mind for Cho, I'm almost sorry I hesitated. If I ever get the chance to duel with Macnair, he's a dead man."

Ron stared at him. "You might want to ease up a bit, Harry; you're scaring me."

Harry looked at his friend a moment, then shook his head again. "You don't understand," he said. "You don't feel the way I do about Cho. Think about how you'd feel if it had been Ginny or Hermione that he kidnapped, tortured, tried to murder… what would you do?"

Ron thought about it. "I guess maybe you're right. I don't think I _could_ cast _Avada Kedavra,_ though. You, I'd believe; you did out-fight You-Know-Who, after all. I'm just not that powerful."

Harry shrugged. "You'd be amazed what you can do when you get angry enough," he said.

"Well," said Hermione from behind them, "If you're going to kill Macnair, I hope you'll do it discreetly. It wouldn't be any use to get yourself thrown in Azkaban, would it?"

Harry and Ron turned in their chairs to look at her. "You? You're the last person I'd have expected to encourage him."

She shrugged. "I don't like Macnair," she said. "Remember how disappointed he was that he didn't get to kill Buckbeak?"

Ron grimaced. "Yeah."

"And he tried to kill Cho out of spite. She was tied up, didn't have a wand, couldn't do a thing to threaten him, and he tried to cut off her head _before_ dealing with Harry, who _did_ have his wand. Don't you see? He wanted Harry to watch her die."

Ron shivered. "He's a bad one, all right – maybe almost as bad as You-Know-Who himself." He thought for a moment. "Not as clever, though. Attacking Cho before Harry wasn't very smart, you know?"

"No it wasn't," Harry said. "I guess being that vicious is a weakness."

"Fortunately," Hermione agreed.

"What've you been doing, anyway?" Ron asked her.

"Doing a bit of reading. For an inn, this place has a terrific library."

"Big surprise there," Ron muttered.

Harry shook his head and yawned. "I'm going upstairs; I promised Cho I'd be there when she woke up. Good night."

"Good night, Harry," said Ron.

"Good night," Hermione echoed. "We'll see you in the morning."

Harry started up the staircase, then suddenly turned and grinned at his friends. "This was certainly the most exciting birthday I've ever had. But I think next year it might be nice to have a more normal sort of party."

Ron grinned back at him. "We'll see what we can do, mate." Hermione nodded, smiling. Harry turned and continued up the stairs.

The fire had burned down to dull embers, and the sea breeze through the open window chilled the air. The covers on the big bed had slipped down a bit, leaving Cho's upper back uncovered, and she was shivering slightly in her sleep. Harry reached out to adjust them, then hesitated. His hand seemed to move of its own volition, fingertips brushing lightly over her shoulder blade, feeling the warmth of her skin through her thin black cotton t-shirt. _God, she's beautiful,_ he thought. _If only…_ He fought the impulse to lie down beside her, wrap her in his arms and hold her through the night. _No knowing how she'd react when she woke up. What does she really think of me, anyway? Am I her knight in shining armor now? She certainly seemed to want me with her earlier, but maybe that's just because I was the only person around that she knows at all._

Cho stirred in her sleep, and Harry sighed. "I never asked for any of this, you know. I didn't want to be your knight; I just wanted to dance with you at the Ball, maybe share a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. I wouldn't have had you hurt like this for anything." His fists clenched painfully as the image of her bound to the chair, screaming in agony, flashed across his memory. "Damn Macnair," he whispered fiercely. "I should have killed him. And if any of Voldemort's lackeys ever tries to hurt you again, I swear I will."

After watching her sleep for another minute or so, he pulled the covers back up around her shoulders, then fetched an extra pillow and blanket from the wardrobe and settled himself into the recliner chair by the head of the bed. He tilted it back as far as it would go, so that he was lying almost horizontal. Then he put out the bedside lamp, leaving only a single candle burning on the dresser. Thinking back over the events of the last twelve hours, he could hardly believe that he'd woken up just that morning in his bedroom at number four, Privet Drive, with no inkling of what the day would bring. At length, the soft sounds of the distant surf and Cho's quiet breathing lulled him into sleep.

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	8. Chapter 7: Conversation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Conversation**

"Shared pain is lessened; shared joy is increased. Thus do we refute entropy."

--Spider Robinson

_He was lying on the cold, damp ground of the graveyard, hearing Voldemort's high, cold voice commanding Wormtail to kill, and Wormtail shrieking, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_" This time, though, when he turned his head, it wasn't Cedric on the ground beside him; Cho's dark eyes stared sightlessly back at him, her sweet face pale and frozen in an expression of stunned surprise. Harry cried out, and the dream shifted…._

_He was on his broom in the cottage, frozen in mid-air like a bug in amber, unable to move as Macnair's great axe descended. Cho gazed at him pleadingly, and he couldn't speak, couldn't bring his wand to bear, could only watch helplessly as the blade cleaved through her neck and the light in her eyes died. "Cho…" he whispered brokenly, and the dream shifted again…._

_He was still in the cottage, but now he was on the cot, holding Cho in his arms, trying vainly to comfort her as she writhed in the grip of the Cruciatus Curse. He could feel her heart racing, see the hopeless terror in her eyes, as he screamed at the four masked Death Eaters who stood around them, "Not her! Let her go, it's me you want!"_

_One of them drew a dagger from his belt and thrust it hilt-first into Harry's hand. "Then release her, boy," he sneered. "End her pain."_

"_I can't…." Harry gasped, staring in horror at the blade in his hand._

"_Please," Cho sobbed, her voice raw from screaming. "Do it, Harry… it's the only way…." She gripped his hand and pulled it down until the point of the dagger rested just below her left breast. "Please," she said again. "Please make it stop."_

_He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed down with all his strength. Cho gave a choked cry, jerked convulsively in his arms, then sighed and went limp. Harry kept holding her, rocking her gently, murmuring her name over and over as tears streamed down his cheeks…._

He woke with a start. His clothes were damp with clammy sweat, and his hands shook slightly as he pulled the blanket up over his chest. Cho slept peacefully in the bed beside him. He reached out to touch her hand where it rested on her pillow. It felt reassuringly warm; her fingers curled lightly around his, and she smiled softly in her sleep. Harry sighed, wishing he'd taken a dose of the Sleeping Draught himself. He knew from experience that the sleep it brought was deep and untroubled by dreams. Now it was too late; if he used it now, he'd sleep away half the day before he woke up. At length, he drifted off again, his hand still resting over Cho's.

_She ran from him, laughing, down the grassy hillside to the lake. He caught her at the water's edge and pulled her to the ground with him, and they lay side by side in the grass, gazing up at the clouds. And then she was in his arms, and this time it was not terror that made her heart beat so fast against his chest, nor tears that made her eyes so bright, and when she cried out it was not in pain…._

Harry awoke to find early morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, and his hand still lightly clasping Cho's. When he started to pull it back, her fingers closed more tightly around it and she stirred in her sleep, so he desisted and lay still, watching her.

The moment was broken by Sirius's voice, singing loudly in the shower next door:

"One, two and three jolly coachmen sat in an English tavern.

Three jolly coachmen sat in an English tavern.

And they decided, and they decided,

and they decided to have another flagon."

Cho stirred again, then her eyes fluttered open. She stared uncomprehendingly at Harry for a moment, squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again, and glanced down at their joined hands. Looking a bit self-conscious, she released his hand. Finally she said, "Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning, Cho. How are you feeling?"

She started to sit up, then groaned. "Sore," she replied. "Being tied up for twenty-four hours doesn't do your shoulders any good."

"Ah," said Harry. "I'm sorry." He paused, then added, "I might be able to help a bit."

"Oh? You know any healing spells?"

"No, but after she wrenched her shoulder last year, Alicia Spinnet taught me how to give a backrub." He smiled slightly at the recollection, and didn't add that she'd told him it might help him get a girlfriend some day.

"All right," said Cho, turning over. "Right now, I'd try just about anything."

Harry moved to sit beside her on the bed. His hands trembled slightly, and his palms began to sweat; he wiped them off on his knees. _It was always easy with Alicia,_ he thought. _Why am I so nervous?_ He reached out and rested his hands on her shoulders. That first touch was almost electric, sending a tingling thrill up his arms and throughout his body. Gently at first, he sought out the knots of tension in her muscles and began to knead them away with fingers made strong by years of household chores and catching Snitches and dexterous by the exacting precision of wand practice. Cho's delicate frame demanded a lighter touch than the powerful shoulders of the Gryffindor Chaser who had taught him the technique, but that only made it easier.

The room, Sirius's singing, and the sound and scent of the sea soon faded from Harry's awareness. There was nothing in his world but Cho Chang, warm and supple and _alive_ beneath his hands. The tension in her back gradually ebbed away as Harry worked his way inward toward her spine.

"Higher," she murmured, as his thumbs met in the middle of her back. His heart beat faster as his hands moved slowly up past the loose neckline of her t-shirt. His glasses were fogging up, and he lifted one hand to push them lower on his nose. Then, carefully brushing her hair to one side, he began massaging the back of her neck, where two taut cords of muscle stood out under her smooth, tan skin. She made a soft sound that was almost a purr, as the muscles softened under the persistent drumbeat of his fingertips.

Entranced, Harry had entirely forgotten the song coming from across the hall, but Cho was apparently listening, as she suddenly started to giggle. "Did he just say what I think he said?"

Harry ran the last verse over in his head, parsing the words this time, and blushed crimson. "I think so," he said. "Anyway, whatever it was, I think he was singing it off key. Shall I go ask him to stop?"

Cho glanced up at him over her shoulder, taking in his expression of embarrassment. "Please don't leave," she said. "Not just yet. That felt really nice, you know? I don't feel so stiff now."

"I'm glad," said Harry. "I really do have to get up, though." He glanced significantly toward the bathroom door.

"Oh, all right," Cho replied. "Tell you what: you can have first shot at the loo, if I can have the first bath."

"Deal," said Harry, rising from the bed. "I'll start the tub for you."

After Harry had finished with the bathroom and Cho had shut the door behind her, he stepped out into the hall. Somebody, probably Dobby, had brought his trunk upstairs and set it by the door to Cho's room. He knocked on the door of the next room up the hall, where the sound of running water had ceased, and called, "Sirius? Are you finished with the shower in there?"

The door opened, revealing his godfather already dressed for the day, his long, dark hair slick from the shower and pulled back into a ponytail. "Good morning, Harry," he said. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough, I guess. I had some pretty awful dreams." He shuddered at the memory.

Sirius nodded. "It happens. I still wake up screaming now and then, thinking I'm back in Azkaban. Some things you can't ever put completely out of your mind."

"Yeah. Still, they weren't all bad…." He paused a moment, savoring the intense tactile memory of Cho lying warm in his arms on the soft grass beside the lake, and Sirius smiled as if he could read Harry's mind. "You look like you slept pretty well last night," Harry commented, studying him. Somehow, Sirius looked younger and healthier than he had the previous day – better than Harry could ever recall him looking, in fact.

"This place agrees with me," Sirius replied. "Actually, any place short of Azkaban would be an improvement on the old mansion."

"I see," said Harry. "I thought you sounded awfully cheerful in there."

Sirius laughed. "You heard that?"

"Yeah. You sing off-key, you know."

"Too true," Sirius agreed, grinning unrepentantly. "Your father hit me with a Silencing Charm once when I wouldn't stop singing." He frowned. "I hope I didn't embarrass anyone, though; that song is a bit off-color, now that I think about it."

"I think Cho thought it was funny, and that's something."

"She seems like quite a remarkable young woman," Sirius commented. "Amazingly resilient, considering all she's been through."

"Yes, she is," said Harry. "I think she's hurting a lot more than she lets on, though – kind of the way I was the last week at school, after the Third Task."

"You're probably right. You're also probably the best friend she could possibly have right now. There aren't many people near her age who could understand what she's going through as well as you can."

"I don't know about that," Harry said, "but I am trying."

"You'll do fine, Harry," said Sirius. "Now, I'm going to go see what's for breakfast. The shower is all yours."

"Thanks." Harry dragged his trunk into Sirius's room and shut the door. In the bathroom, he turned the shower on full blast, letting the hot spray ease the kinks in his muscles from sleeping in the recliner chair. After scrubbing away twenty-four hours' worth of sweat and grime, he put on a clean t-shirt and jeans and went to tap on Cho's door.

"Harry?" she called. Her voice sounded slightly muffled; clearly, she was still in the bath. "You can come in if you want."

He went into the bedroom and stood by the bathroom door. "Would you like to come downstairs for breakfast, or shall I ask Dobby to bring it up here?" he asked.

"Up here, if that's all right," she said. "I was hoping we could talk."

Something about her tone set off alarms in Harry's head; his mouth went dry, and he felt the same hollow sensation in his middle that he had experienced when Cho refused his invitation to the Yule Ball. _Here it comes,_ he thought. _The moment of truth._ His resolve of the previous evening seemed very far away now, but he managed to keep the apprehension out of his voice as he said, "All right, I'll go and tell Dobby."

Downstairs, he found Ron, Hermione, Sirius and Lupin seated around a table, the latter looking rather ill in the wake of his monthly transformation. "Morning, Harry," called Ron, pausing with a forkful of scrambled egg halfway to his mouth. "Going to join us?"

"Not just yet," Harry replied. "Cho asked me to have breakfast upstairs with her; there were some things she wanted to talk about."

Hermione shot him a concerned look. "Did she say what?" she asked.

"No, but I have a pretty good idea anyway." Harry sighed.

Ron looked from him to Hermione and back again. "What are you two on about?" he asked.

Hermione glared at him. "Honestly, Ron. Isn't it obvious? Cedric was Cho's boyfriend, and Harry was with him when he was killed. She's going to want to know what happened. It wasn't exactly easy for him to tell us about it, and we've been his best friends for years. How much harder is it going to be to tell Cho? Harry barely knows her, and Cedric's death hit her a lot harder than it did us."

"Oh," said Ron. "That's… gosh, Harry, what are you going to say?"

"Don't worry, I'll handle it. You were right last night, Hermione; she deserves the truth."

"Good luck, mate," said Ron.

"You'll be fine, Harry," added Lupin. "I remember Cho Chang from when she was in my class; she's not the kind of person who would blame you for what happened to Cedric."

"If she feels up to it after you've both had something to eat and a chance to talk, ask if she'd like to come downstairs," said Sirius. "I'm looking forward to meeting her."

"We'll see," said Harry. "I'm going to have to explain about you, first; as far as she knows, Sirius Black is still a fugitive murderer who came after me at Hogwarts the year before last."

"Well, I'm sure she won't be any harder to convince than Snape was – and it's always nice to add one more member to the exclusive little club who know the truth about me."

In the kitchen, Harry found Dobby scrubbing various pots and pans from breakfast. "Good morning, Harry Potter!" the house elf called over the noise from the sink. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"A bit of everything," Harry replied. "And could you bring a tray upstairs for Cho? We're going to eat in her room."

"Of course, Harry Potter," said the elf. He gestured to a group of large serving dishes on the counter, his long fingers dancing like a pianist's. Sausages, eggs, and toast sailed across the counter and arranged themselves neatly on plates, porridge leaped from a tureen into two smaller bowls as though lifted by an invisible spoon, and a pitcher of orange juice rose and tilted to fill two tall glasses. Then the plates, bowls, and glasses floated in an orderly procession to a pair of silver platters. Harry picked up one, and Dobby levitated the other, along with a third bearing a saltshaker, bowls of sugar and jam, and the bone china tea set from the previous evening.

"I think you'd better follow me up instead of Apparating, Dobby," Harry advised. "Cho was in the bath when I came down, and she might be upset if you popped into the room without knocking."

"Very well, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby agreed. "Dobby would not want to alarm Miss Chang."

As it turned out, they needn't have worried. Harry found the bedroom door open, and Cho standing before the full-length mirror, running a brush through her waist-length black hair. Her reflection had turned its back to her, making it easier to see what she was doing. She was dressed in a fluffy, voluminous white bathrobe which made her look even smaller than usual – the hem almost brushed the floor, and the sleeves appeared to be rolled over at least three times.

"Thanks a lot, Harry," she said, as he walked into the room. "And thank you, Dobby," she added. The elf gave her a deep bow. "Miss Chang is most welcome," he said. "Dobby hopes Miss Chang enjoys her breakfast."

Cho sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, and Dobby floated her breakfast tray up to hover over her lap. Harry took the recliner chair, moving the nightstand in front of him and setting his tray on it. The serving tray hung in the air between them, in easy reach of both. "Thanks, Dobby," Harry said.

"It is Dobby's honor to serve Harry Potter, sir." Dobby snapped his fingers and vanished with the customary whip-crack sound of Disapparition.

"So," said Harry. "You said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Let's eat first," Cho replied. "I'm starving."

"Good idea," Harry agreed, relieved at having a bit more time to compose his thoughts.

Once he started eating, he found he had quite an appetite, and quickly polished off everything on his tray. Cho ate ravenously, finishing even before he did. Noticing his bemused expression, she colored slightly. "I don't usually bolt my food like that," she said. "But I had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours, and only some bread and broth last night, remember?"

"It doesn't bother me, Cho," he said. "I've just never seen a girl who could finish off a meal faster than I could. Growing up with my cousin Dudley, I had to learn to eat quickly, before he could steal the food off my plate."

"Really? I'd heard the rumors about that Muggle family you live with, but I didn't know how much to believe."

"When it comes to the Dursleys, anything bad you've heard is probably true," Harry said. "Do you know Gregory Goyle?"

"Malfoy's hanger-on, the one who looks like a troll? Sure."

"Well, Dudley's sort of like a Muggle version of Goyle, only meaner and not as smart."

Cho giggled. "That bad?"

"He used to beat me up all the time, until I went to Hogwarts. Now he's afraid I'll turn him into a toad. That would probably be an improvement, actually, but not worth getting expelled over."

"I see." Cho looked thoughtful for a moment. "There was something I'd been meaning to ask you, about last night," she said.

Harry, who had been expecting her to ask about Cedric, was caught off-guard. "What's that?" he asked.

"The other wizard who was with you, the one that got knocked out – he looked familiar, but I can't place him. Who was he? Was that him singing in the shower this morning?"

"Yes, it was. He's… well… do you trust me, Cho?"

"Of course, Harry. Why?"

"All right. He was my parents' best friend, and he's my godfather. His name is Sirius Black."

Cho stared at him in disbelief. "_Sirius Black?_ But he was on You-Know-Who's side! He was the escaped killer they had the dementors looking for at Hogwarts all last year! That's where I saw him before, on the wanted posters in Hogsmeade. How can he be… I don't understand, Harry."

"He's not a murderer, or a Death Eater," Harry said. "He was framed. You remember the newspaper reports after he escaped, about how he had killed that other wizard, Peter Pettigrew, and all those Muggles?" Cho nodded. "Well, they were all wrong. Sirius didn't cast that curse, Pettigrew did; he faked his own death, and killed the Muggles to cover his escape. When Sirius escaped from Azkaban, people thought he was coming after me, but in fact, he was trying to get to Hogwarts to protect me, because he'd found out Pettigrew was hiding there. Pettigrew's an unregistered Animagus; he can turn into a rat. We almost caught him last year, but he got away, so Sirius had to run as well; without Pettigrew, we couldn't prove he was innocent. Only Dumbledore believed us."

Cho's eyes were round as saucers. "I heard rumors about how Black was caught and then escaped again," she said. "But I never would have imagined…."

"No, nobody would," Harry agreed. "The truth is so strange I don't think anyone _could_ imagine it if they didn't know. There's a lot more to the story, of course, if you'd like to know…."

"I would, but not right now. I also wanted to ask about the Death Eaters who kidnapped me; I know Macnair and one of the others got away, but what about the other two?"

"They're both dead. The one you saw in the doorway broke his neck when Buckbeak hit him."

"Oh," she said, in a very small voice. "I thought he might have… died then. He went down so hard…." She shivered. "I've never seen anyone die before."

"I'm sorry, Cho."

"It's not your fault. It's just kind of creepy, you know? Knowing he died right before my eyes. What happened to the other one?"

"Sirius and I Stunned him right before we broke into the cottage; after the fight, we tied him up and brought him here. Dumbledore wanted to question him, of course, so he had Professor Snape bring him a bottle of Veritaserum. But apparently Lord Voldemort's invented another potion that makes Veritaserum poisonous to people who've taken it. Steggles – that was his name, Snape and Dumbledore knew him from when he was Hogwarts – choked and died right after Snape gave it to him."

Cho looked appalled. "Do you think he knew what was going to happen?"

"No, apparently he'd been told that the other potion would just make him immune to the Veritaserum. He was actually eager to swallow it. I guess he thought he could fool Dumbledore into believing he was an innocent bystander or some such story. Not much chance of that."

"I wouldn't think so," Cho agreed. "So, did he say anything before he died?"

"Well, the first question Dumbledore asked him was whose idea it was to kidnap you. He said it was someone called Terry, and that Terry's little sister had told him… told him I liked you. Cho, what's wrong?"

Cho had gone pale. "'Terry's little sister?'" she repeated. "You're sure that's what he said?"

"Yeah. Why, do you know who he meant?"

She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing at her temples as though her head hurt. "Marietta," she grated. "I _asked_ her not to tell anyone, she _promised_ she wouldn't… aaagh!" She lowered her hands and looked up at Harry. "Marietta Edgecombe is my best friend," she explained. "Just about the only friend who stuck by me after Cedric died; most of them, it seems as though they couldn't figure out what to say to me, so they just took to avoiding me. She's a lovely person, really she is, but she's too trusting for her own good, and sometimes she doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut. See, she has this brother – step-brother, actually – Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker you played against in your first Quidditch match."

"Higgs? Yeah, I remember him… skinny git with sandy hair and a face like an underfed fox, right?"

"Yes. I used to see him sometimes when I went over to Marietta's house; she and I were friends even before we went to Hogwarts. The way he looked at me sometimes made my skin crawl – like he was undressing me with his eyes…." she shivered. "Marietta just didn't see it. She could never understand why I didn't like him. He was always flattering her, telling her how pretty she was; after he moved out of the house he would bring her little presents when he came to visit – sweets, costume jewelry, Quidditch tickets, that sort of thing. He's a reserve player for the Falmouth Falcons now, so he can usually get good seats at matches. Marietta has a bad case of hero-worship for him."

"Wasn't Marietta the one you were supposed to be visiting, the night you were kidnapped?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Oh, it all makes sense now! Terence must have seen her handwriting plenty of times, he could have forged that letter easily. And in the cottage, I thought the one that was talking about… about what he wanted to do to me sounded familiar. It was him, I'm sure of it."

"If it was, he must be the other one that got away," Harry said. "I didn't recognize the man Buckbeak killed, and I'm sure I would have recognized Higgs."

"We'll have to tell Dumbledore," said Cho. "Maybe he can find a way to prove it. I don't know what I'm going to tell Marietta; she'll never believe me without some hard evidence."

"Dumbledore will come up with something," Harry said, with more confidence than he felt. His faith in the Headmaster's ability to solve any problem had been severely shaken by the events of the last twenty-four hours. Still, he thought, there was a good chance that once he and the Order knew where to look, they would find some way of linking Higgs and Macnair to Cho's kidnapping.

"I hope so," said Cho. She paused a moment in thought. "You can't imagine how glad I was to see you when I woke up last night, Harry. Not just because you rescued me. You see, I've been wanting… needing to talk to you since the end of last term. I can't count how many times I sat down to write you a letter, but I could never make the words come out right."

"What did you want to talk about?" asked Harry warily, certain that he already knew the answer.

"Cedric," she whispered. "Please, Harry… I have to know how it happened… how he died." Her voice broke on the last word.

Harry sighed. "It's not something I like to talk about… but if anyone has the right to know, it's you."

Cho nodded gratefully. "So… what happened after you went into the maze?"

"We took off in opposite directions. I wandered around some, and ran into a few obstacles – not as many as I expected, though. I found out afterward that Crouch – the Death Eater who'd been impersonating Mad-Eye Moody all year – had been clearing my path as much as he could. I heard Cedric yelling at Krum, and… and Krum casting the Cruciatus Curse."

Cho gasped in horror. "Why? How could he do that?"

"Because Crouch was controlling him with the Imperius Curse. Krum would never have attacked Cedric on his own. Anyway, I crawled through an opening in the hedge and hit Krum from behind with a Stunning Spell. Cedric got up and thanked me, and we split up again. I had a nasty run-in with the last of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts, but I managed to get past it okay. Cedric and I got to the center of the maze at almost the same time, but before we could get to the Triwizard Cup we had to deal with a giant spider. It actually picked me up by one leg, but I managed to make it drop me. Then Cedric and I both hit it with Stunners at the same time, and that was enough to knock it out. My leg was hurt pretty badly, so I couldn't run. I told Cedric to go ahead and take the Cup. He refused. He said he'd never have made it to the center if I hadn't helped him out. We had a bit of an argument over who'd helped the other more, and finally I said…" Now or never, Harry told himself. "I said we should take it together – after all, it would still be Hogwarts that won. So he helped me limp over to the plinth where the Cup was sitting, and we counted to three and each grabbed a handle. That's when things really went wrong."

"What happened?" Cho asked, her voice low and tense.

"Crouch had turned the Cup into a Portkey. The moment we touched it, it carried us away to an old graveyard. Of course, we had no idea what had happened, whether it was part of the Task or what. We pulled out our wands, just in case. Then we saw someone in a cloak walking through the mist toward us. And then, all of a sudden, my scar hurt. It hurt so much I couldn't see, couldn't hold my wand, couldn't even stand up. And then I heard him… Lord Voldemort. Once you've heard his voice, you never forget it; it's like ice water running down your spine. He said… God, Cho, this is the hardest part… he said, 'Kill the spare.'"

Cho gave a kind of choked half-sob. "Go on," she said, in a barely audible whisper.

"The man in the cloak was Voldemort's servant, Wormtail. I heard him cast the _Avada Kedavra_ curse. The next thing I knew, Cedric was lying there on the ground beside me. He looked… surprised. Not hurt, not scared, just… stunned, as though he couldn't make sense of what he'd just heard."

Cho was weeping quietly. "So he… he didn't suffer?" she asked with a catch in her voice.

"No," Harry replied gently. "It was over before he even knew what was happening… I'm sorry, Cho," he added, as her face crumpled and she began to cry in earnest. He reached out to her, and she squeezed his hand tightly as she fought to bring her emotions under control. Sensing that she needed something more, he moved from his chair to sit on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders. Something seemed to break loose inside her. She buried her face in Harry's chest and clung to him like a lifeline as her whole body shook with great wracking sobs. Harry gently stroked her long, silky black hair and waited for the storm to pass.

At last, Cho seemed to have cried herself out. She sat up, and when Harry offered her his handkerchief she accepted it gratefully. "Thanks, Harry," she said. "I'm okay now. Sometimes it just hurts so much. But I know Cedric would want me to… not forget him, I could never do that, but… let the pain go, I guess. It's so hard, though."

"I know," Harry said. "I still have nightmares about that night."

"What happened… afterward?"

"I… can we talk about it later, Cho? I will tell you the rest, I promise I will, just not right now, please?"

"Okay, Harry," she said. "I can see it's hard for you, too. Maybe that was enough for one day." She paused, looking thoughtful. "It's strange, you know, how someone can become so important to you so quickly. When Cedric asked me to the Yule ball, it was completely out of the blue. I'd been admiring him from a distance, of course; half the girls at Hogwarts had crushes on him. The other half were all mad for Viktor Krum. But I never guessed that Cedric liked me."

"Really? I always thought… well… you seemed to be so popular."

"Oh sure, I have lots of friends – or at least I did, before… well. I'm good at getting along with other girls, Harry. But I'd never had a boyfriend before; all the nice ones just didn't seem to notice me."

"I can't imagine why," Harry said, sincerely surprised. "I mean, you certainly got my attention."

"Well, I think maybe some of them were intimidated because I'm the Ravenclaw Seeker. I'm also the youngest girl in my year, and the shortest. That foul little ferret Draco Malfoy sneers at me about 'first-years not being allowed to fly' every time I run into him. And I'm skinny, too; most of the boys seem to prefer girls with more, um, curves. When Marietta is around, most of them won't give me a second look." She snorted. "When Fleur Delacour was around, I might as well have been invisible."

"Not to me," said Harry firmly. "When you said you were the youngest and shortest girl in your year, you left off 'prettiest.' It took me so long to ask you to the ball because I got butterflies in my stomach every time I looked at you, Cho."

Cho blushed. "You really mean that?"

"Absolutely," he said. "The first time you smiled at me, at the match the year before last, I just about fell off my broom."

She blushed a deeper shade of crimson, and seized the opportunity to change the subject. "I'm glad you didn't. That would have been awful, especially after the first time. I mean, I would have liked to win that match, of course, but not like that. Cedric told me once he felt terrible about beating you just because of the dementors. He asked for a rematch, you know."

Harry decided to let the topic of her beauty drop for the moment, since it seemed to be making her flustered. "Yeah, Ron told me. Of course, with me in the hospital wing and my Nimbus smashed to splinters by the Whomping Willow, I wouldn't have been able to play again any time soon."

"No, I suppose not. You don't give up easily though, do you? I mean, you still managed to catch the Snitch after that Bludger broke your arm; I'm not sure I could have managed that."

Harry laughed. "Well, I couldn't lose to Malfoy; I'd never live it down. Anyway, the broken arm wasn't so bad; the worst part was when that _git_ Lockhart tried to mend it and vanished all the bones in it instead." He grimaced, remembering the miserable night he'd spend in the hospital wing having them regrown. "It's getting on toward lunch, you know. Do you feel up to coming downstairs? Sirius wanted to meet you, and Professor Lupin and Ron and Hermione are there, too…."

"Maybe in a little while; it's not that long since breakfast."

Harry glanced at his watch. "Yeah, I guess so. Um. Did you want to talk about something else?"

"Well… I've been meaning to tell you… when you asked me to the ball last year, I wished I hadn't said yes to Cedric. I mean, he was really nice, and good-looking, and I did get to like him a lot – I think maybe I was even in love with him – but I liked you first."

Harry found, somewhat to his surprise, that it no longer hurt to hear her talk about Cedric. "At the end, in the maze, Cedric was my friend. I wish I'd gotten to know him better before that. I'd never have gotten through the Second Task if he hadn't told me how to get the clue out of the golden egg."

"Really? He told me that you warned him about the dragons, but he never mentioned returning the favor. I'm not surprised though; he was always pretty modest." Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice slightly choked. "It's just… sometimes it's so hard to believe he's gone…." Harry once again sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around her, and Cho rested her head on his shoulder, crying softly. After a couple of minutes, she stopped and looked up at him. "Thanks, Harry."

"It's all right, Cho," he said. "Honestly, I miss Cedric too. He was a good person, and he deserved better."

"Yeah. He… I don't know, maybe you don't want to hear this."

"It's all right," Harry said again. "Say whatever you want; I'll listen."

"Cedric was the first boy I ever kissed," she said. Harry nodded, unsurprised. "It… it happened right after the Second Task. I was so scared when I woke up…."

"Really? I thought that task was a lot scarier for the champions; you and Ron and Hermione and Fleur's little sister were all asleep the entire time you were under water, weren't you?"

"Yes, but we woke up as soon as we hit the surface. I really, really don't like deep water, Harry. I almost drowned at the beach when I was five, and I've been terrified of it ever since. When I woke up and realized I was still in the lake, I was so scared I could hardly move; all I could do was hang onto Cedric and shiver. But then he… he hugged me and said, 'It's all right, I've got you. You're not going to drown.' He held me like that all the way to shore, lying on his back in the water with my head on his chest, swimming just with his legs… and I felt completely safe. I never would have imagined I could feel that way in the water, but I _knew_ he wouldn't let anything happen to me." Catching the look on Harry's face, she added, "I'm sorry, Harry, I shouldn't be talking about that…."

"It's all right," Harry said. "It's just that… if it had been Cedric instead of Fleur that got stuck, I would have rescued you instead of Gabrielle. I guess I just wish I could have been the one to make you feel that way."

She stared at him in surprise. "But Harry, you do! That's exactly how I felt when you cut me free back in Macnair's cottage. That's exactly how I feel every time you hold me like this." She paused, studying his face for a moment. Then she seemed to come to a decision. "Kiss me, Harry," she whispered.

"Are— are you sure?" Harry stammered.

"Please. I want you to."

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He bent forward, his lips slowly coming closer to Cho's, but just as they were about to touch he heard someone's brisk footsteps in the hall. He practically leapt from the bed back to his chair, and they both looked guiltily at the door.

Sirius appeared in the doorway; seeing their expressions, he smiled slyly. "I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"Um, er… no, not really," Harry stammered.

"Oh. Because if, say, you wanted to give her a kiss, I could go away for ten minutes or so; I just came to see if you were coming down to lunch."

Harry blushed furiously, but could think of nothing to say. Seeing his distress, Sirius added, "Harry, relax. I'm not Molly Weasley; I still remember what it's like to be young."

Before Harry could collect his thoughts enough to reply to Sirius's ribbing, Cho slipped off the bed and walked to the door, holding out her hand. "You must be Sirius Black," she said. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Chang," Sirius replied, clasping her hand.

"Come on, Harry," said Cho, looking at him over her shoulder. "Let's go down and see your friends. We can, um, _talk_ some more after lunch." She winked at him.

Harry swallowed hard, finding his voice, and said, "All right." He got up and walked over to stand beside her.

"Why don't you two go on downstairs while I change," Cho suggested. "Oh, and could I borrow your wand for a moment, Harry? I don't have mine, and my clothes could do with a Cleaning Charm."

"Of course." Harry handed her the wand, then stepped into the hall. Cho shut the door behind him.

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	9. Chapter 8: Condemnation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Condemnation**

"No, no!" said the Queen. "Sentence first – verdict afterwards."

--_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,_ by Lewis Carroll

"And what's a voice line-up? Public defender could get you out of that one…."

--Dean Keaton, in _The Usual Suspects_

A little while later, they were all six seated around a table in the common room. Harry had introduced Cho to Ron and Hermione, whom she knew by sight but had never talked to before, and she had renewed her acquaintance with Remus Lupin, who, it turned out, had been among her favorite teachers, as well as theirs, during his single year at Hogwarts. "I still can't believe they forced you to resign over being a werewolf," she commented. "I mean, it's not as if you asked to get bitten, and with the Wolfsbane Potion you weren't a danger to anyone."

"Unless I forgot to take it," Lupin said. "Which I did, the last full moon of the year. I didn't end up biting anyone, but I easily could have… and it had other consequences." He cast an apologetic look toward Sirius.

"Not your fault, old friend," Sirius said. "You had a lot on your mind that night."

"What do you mean?" asked Cho.

"How much has Harry told you about how he found out I was innocent?" Sirius asked.

"Not very much; we had a lot to talk about."

"Ah. Well, it's quite a story. Would you like to hear it?"

"Yes, please," Cho said.

"It's pretty complicated. It really began back when Remus and I were at school together…."

As Cho listened raptly, Sirius and Lupin explained how Lupin had come to Hogwarts, how his friends had become Animagi so that they could keep him company during his transformations, and how they had joined the fight against Voldemort after their graduation. Harry kept a tight rein on his emotions as they described the suspicions that had divided them during the last, terrible year of the war, and the betrayal that had cost the lives of Harry's parents and sent Sirius to Azkaban for a crime he did not commit.

Sirius then told of his escape and his pursuit of Pettigrew at Hogwarts, pausing frequently to allow Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lupin to give their perspectives on the events of that school year. Finally, they told of the bizarre chain of events that had unfolded on the night of their last exams: the unmasking of Peter Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack, Lupin's untimely transformation and Pettigrew's escape, the dementors, the Time-Turner, and Harry's Patronus.

Cho was quiet for a while, absorbing all the new information. Finally, she said, "So… you're saying Pettigrew was Wormtail… and he was the one who…?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I'm sorry, Cho, I should have mentioned that before."

"It's okay, Harry. I'm not blaming you, I'm just trying to get it all straight."

"But if I hadn't stopped them killing Pettigrew—"

"Don't!" Cho interrupted. Harry recoiled; this was the first time she'd shown real anger. "Don't say it, don't even think it! You did what you believed was right; there was no way you could have foreseen what would come of it. And don't you start, either, Professor!" she added, rounding on Lupin, who appeared about to say something. "There are only three people to blame for what happened to Cedric, and neither of you are on the list."

Lupin smiled. "I was just going to agree with you. Harry, if you really feel the need to beat yourself up, you're going to have to find a more convincing excuse."

Harry raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "All right, I give. If you don't want to blame me, Cho, I won't insist on it."

She smiled at him. "That's better. Now, who wants to talk Quidditch?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron grinned like a madman. "What team do you follow?" he asked.

"The Tornados."

"You and half of Britain."

"They are picking up a lot of new fans this year, aren't they? But I've supported them since I was six."

"Ah, well, that's all right then," said Ron. "I just don't care for fair-weather fans."

Cho laughed. "Let me guess: Chudley Cannons, right?"

Ron's smile turned rueful. "Got it in one."

"I have to admire your loyalty, then. You could have been in Hufflepuff."

"Nah, only a Gryffindor would be brave enough to keep going to their matches year after year."

At that point Dobby emerged from the kitchen with a large tray of sandwiches. The conversation continued as they ate, shifting from Quidditch to classes to speculation on who would teach Defense Against the Dark Arts the coming year.

They had just finished eating when the front door opened to admit Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster was followed by two other people: a tall young wizard with long red hair tied back in a ponytail and an obvious family resemblance to Ron, and a Chinese witch who looked to be in her early twenties, carrying a duffel bag. "Hello, Bill," called Ron, waving to his oldest brother.

Cho's reaction was more dramatic. "Liu!" she shouted, jumping up from her chair and fairly flinging herself into the other witch's arms.

Liu Chang set down her bag and caught her sister in a fierce hug. "Are you all right, sis?" she asked.

"I've been better," Cho replied. "But I'm alive, thanks to Harry and his friends."

"When you didn't come home last night, I called up Madam Edgecombe in the fire and found out you'd never been there. I was about to report you missing when Bill here rang the doorbell. He told me what had happened… I'm so sorry, Cho. I shouldn't have left you alone."

"It wasn't your fault, Liu," Cho replied. "And I'm glad you weren't in the shop; you could have been killed. Anyway, come and meet my new friends."

"One moment." Liu put a hand in her pocket and pulled out a wand. "I thought you'd want this back; I found it on the shelf under the register."

"Thanks a lot, Liu. You're right, I had to borrow Harry's just to clean my clothes this morning." Cho accepted her wand, then led Liu to the table and introduced her to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and Lupin. Somebody had obviously already filled her in about Sirius, as she greeted the infamous fugitive with lively interest but no trace of surprise; Cho looked slightly disappointed at this non-reaction.

Liu, in turn, introduced Cho to Bill Weasley, whom she had known when they were both students at Hogwarts. Unlike her more studious sister, Liu had been Sorted into Gryffindor; Bill had been in the year just ahead of hers.

As the introductions were made, Harry studied Liu Chang. She was several inches taller than her sister, though still slightly shorter than Harry, and her lustrous black hair was cut shoulder-length, instead of hanging past her waist as Cho's did. She also had a somewhat rounder face and more solid build – more like a Chaser than a Seeker, Harry thought.

The three new arrivals joined the group seated around the table, and Dumbledore explained that he had arranged a meeting at the Ministry of Magic to report the events of the previous day. Naturally, Sirius and Buckbeak's involvement had to be omitted from the "official version" of Cho's rescue from the Death Eaters; Hermione's role would also pass unmentioned, as she had been riding Buckbeak. Bill was to give Sirius's account of the incident as though he had been there instead, while Lupin would claim responsibility for bringing down the man the hippogriff had slain. The latter had been identified as Roderick Spode, a Slytherin from the same year as the late Steggles.

In order to make Bill's account convincing, Dumbledore had brought along his Pensieve, a magical device resembling a large stone bowl which enabled memories to be transferred from one mind to another. Once the plan was explained, the headmaster, Bill, and Sirius retired to the library, where they wouldn't be distracted while using the Pensieve. In the mean time, Cho and Liu went upstairs to talk for a while in private, while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lupin discussed exactly what Harry and Lupin would tell the Ministry people about their respective roles in the incident.

The Chang sisters returned to the common room after about half an hour. Cho appeared calm, but it was obvious from her red-rimmed eyes that she had been crying. Liu explained that Dumbledore had strongly suggested Cho should remain at the Harrington Arms for another three nights while the Order made arrangements for the protection of the Changs' shop and residence. She expected that it would take at least that long for their parents to receive the message she'd sent them, as they had left Hong Kong for a remote region of mainland China to collect Chinese Fireball eggshells. Liu would have to return to the shop during the next two days to assist in setting up wards that would alert the Order if any curses or other combat spells were used there, but would spend the nights at the inn. Dumbledore was also looking into the possibility of having a member of the Order work in the shop until Cho returned to school.

A few minutes later, Dumbledore, Bill, and Sirius rejoined the group. Bill informed Ron and Hermione that Molly Weasley had insisted they return to the Order's headquarters that afternoon. Lupin also opted to return after the meeting, as he had been working with Mad-Eye Moody on further enhancements to the Order's Omnioculars and wanted to get back to it. Sirius volunteered (rather enthusiastically, Harry thought) to remain at the inn so that Cho wouldn't be left on her own during the day. Molly had wanted Harry to go to headquarters as well, but Cho asked if he could keep her company at the inn until she went home, and Sirius, as Harry's guardian, agreed.

Dumbledore produced a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from a pocket of his robe, which would serve as a Portkey for Ron and Hermione. They each hugged Harry and wished him well, and Hermione whispered in his ear, "Remember what I told you last night." Harry smiled at her and nodded as she stepped back. Then she and Ron took hold of the box, Dumbledore spoke the command "_Portus,_" and they were gone.

"Now," said Dumbledore, pulling a pocket watch that appeared to have at least a dozen hands out of his robe, "our meeting at the Ministry is in approximately ten minutes. Miss Chang, you may join us if you wish, or remain here; while your first-hand testimony would be useful, it is entirely up to you whether you wish to participate."

"I think I'll be all right, Professor," Cho replied. "As long as Liu can come with us."

"That should not present any difficulties," said Dumbledore. "Are you all clear on what you will say?"

There were nods and murmurs of agreement all round. "Then I see no reason to wait any longer."

"Good luck, everyone," said Sirius, stepping back out of the way. "I'll see you when you get back."

This time, the Portkey was a box of Chocolate Frogs. They each took hold of it, and for the fourth time in two days, Harry felt the all-too-familiar jerking sensation behind his navel, lifting him off the ground and drawing him on through a howling, kaleidoscopic cyclone.

Accustomed now to the hard landings that came with this mode of travel, Harry managed to keep his feet, even when Cho grabbed his arm for support. She flashed him a quick smile as she recovered her balance.

Looking around, Harry saw that they had landed in a spare, medium-sized room, furnished with a long rectangular table and a dozen chairs arranged along the long sides of it. The wall on the opposite side of the table had a large picture window that appeared to look out on the West End of London from at least thirty stories above the street.

"Is the Ministry of Magic in Centre Point tower?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Actually, it's underground," said Bill. "The windows are enchanted, and the view changes from day to day. When they use a view of the West End, it's always from the top floor of Centre Point…"

"'Cause it's the one place in the West End where you can't see Centre Point," said Liu, grinning.

Just then, Harry heard a door opening behind him. Turning around, he came face-to-face with a portly wizard in a pinstriped suit and scarlet necktie: Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

Fudge gaped in surprise for a moment, then assumed an expression of extreme irritation. "See here, Dumbledore," he said, "it simply won't do, Porting directly into my conference room. Visitors to the Ministry are supposed to come in through the main entrance."

"I wished to ensure that we arrived on time," said Dumbledore equably. "Several of the lifts were out of order this morning, and there were rather long lines for the ones that worked."

"That's no excuse for… oh, never mind," said Fudge, waving a hand dismissively. "Since you're all here, we may as well get started." He walked around to the far side of the table, followed by two other people. The first, Harry was surprised to see, was Percy Weasley. The newly appointed Junior Assistant to the Minister looked down his nose at Harry with no sign of recognition, then quickly averted his eyes as he noticed his older brother standing near the end of the table. Bill looked at him with something very like pity as he walked around to the far side to sit on the Minister's left.

The other person accompanying Fudge was a short, squat witch who resembled nothing so much as an oversized toad: she had a broad, flabby face, no neck to speak of, a wide, slack mouth, protuberant eyes, and a ridiculous black velvet bow in her curly hair, like a fly the toad was just about to catch on its tongue and swallow.

"Well, sit down," said Fudge, as the witch sat to his right. Cho took a seat in the middle of the near side of the table, with Harry and Liu to the left and right of her. Harry felt her take his hand under the table; glancing down, he saw that she was doing the same with Liu on her other side. Dumbledore sat to Liu's right, Bill and Lupin to Harry's left.

"I believe most of you know my assistant, Percy Weasley," said Fudge. "And this is Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.

"So pleased to make your acquaintance," said the toad-witch, in a surprisingly high, girlish voice. She favored them all with a broad smile that left her bulging eyes as cold as ever.

"I had understood that Madam Bones was to be present at this meeting," said Dumbledore mildly.

"Yes, well," Fudge replied, "Amelia has been unavoidably detained by other matters, and Dolores has very kindly agreed to attend in her place." Harry noticed that the Minister wasn't meeting Dumbledore's eyes.

"I see," said the headmaster, gazing keenly at Fudge over his half-moon spectacles. "Well, then, shall we begin?"

"Are you ready, Weasley?" Fudge asked, glancing at Percy.

Percy had produced a large parchment scroll and a quill, obviously to record the details of the meeting. "Ready to go, sir," he replied.

"Very well. Miss Chang, I think we should hear your account first."

"All right," said Cho. She proceeded to give Fudge a slightly less detailed version of the story she had told Harry and Dumbledore the previous evening. She trembled a bit while describing the Death Eaters' plans for her and Harry, gripping Harry and Liu's hands under the table, but otherwise maintained her composure. Fudge frowned skeptically at her description of the dementors, but only interrupted her once, telling Percy to make sure he noted the name of Terence Higgs.

When she had finished, Bill described the ransom note, the reconnaissance of the cottage, and the fight from Sirius's point of view, just as though he'd been there himself. Lupin did likewise, but didn't mention his wound from the silver dagger (which had healed completely when he transformed back into a man), and asserted that it was he who had knocked Roderick Spode to the ground, accidentally snapping his neck.

Fudge's frown deepened at this revelation. "You attacked a wizard while in your lycanthropic form?" he asked.

"I attacked a Death Eater who was in the act of casting the Killing Curse at Harry," Lupin replied, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

"And you were under the influence of the Wolfsbane potion at the time?"

"Obviously." A bit of irritation crept into the werewolf's voice. "Otherwise I would have torn out his throat."

Harry noticed that Umbridge was staring at Lupin with an expression as hateful as the one Snape had worn the previous night. Unlike Snape's, however, her face also betrayed a hint of fear.

"Very well," said Fudge. "We'll leave that for the moment. Continue."

It was Harry's turn. Clearing his throat nervously, he began to speak, confirming the accounts Bill and Lupin had given, and describing the fight from his point of view. His mouth went dry and he had to stop for a moment as he recalled the sight of Macnair's great axe descending; this time, he was the one squeezing Cho's hand for reassurance. Then, as he and Lupin had rehearsed at the cabin, he told a modified version of his brief exchange of words with Macnair, omitting his threat to use the _Avada Kedavra_ curse. "I tried to stun him, but he was too quick," Harry concluded. "He dived for his axe and Disapparated before I could get a clear shot.

Fudge was positively scowling now. "And you believe that this… alleged Death Eater you claim you fought with was Walden Macnair? How would you know, if you never saw his face?"

"I know Macnair's voice," said Harry coldly. "I heard it when he was at Hogwarts last year, and again one month ago, in the churchyard in Little Hangleton."

"Oh, not that nonsense again!" Fudge sputtered. "We've heard quite enough about this supposed return of You-Know-Who. It's been a month now, and there's no evidence whatsoever to suggest that he's at large again!"

"Not until last night," said Harry.

"Another of your stories!"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "This 'story' is corroborated by three other witnesses, Cornelius. Also, the cottage in Argyllshire where these events took place has been thoroughly examined by Aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks. I believe you will find that their report confirms much of the testimony we have heard this afternoon."

"All right, but even supposing that all of these improbable events did in fact occur, you're all overlooking the obvious. If the purpose of Miss Chang's abduction was to lay a trap for Harry Potter, the crime could only have been orchestrated by You-Know-Who's loyal servant: the fugitive murderer Sirius Black. We know he tried to kill Harry last year; clearly, he hasn't given up yet."

Harry stared at Fudge in dawning horror as he realized the flaw in all their planning: since Fudge absolutely refused to consider the possibility of Voldemort's return or Sirius's innocence, it would indeed appear obvious to him that Sirius was behind any genuine attack against Harry – and nothing Harry could say would change his mind.

"Well, hurry up, boy," said Fudge. "This has taken up enough of our time as it is. I suppose you're going to repeat the girl's absurd claim that there were half a dozen dementors there, and you drove them off by conjuring a Patronus?"

Harry glanced at Cho. There were tears in her eyes, but this time they indicated neither grief nor horror, but barely restrained rage – she looked ready to leap across the table and strangle Fudge with her bare hands. Harry could sympathize, as he'd been thinking along the same lines. However, he gave Cho's hand another squeeze and said as calmly as he could, "That's right."

"I ask you, Dumbledore," said Fudge. "A fifteen-year-old boy, conjure a Patronus? And you believe this nonsense?"

"I taught Harry the Patronus Charm," Lupin interjected. "I can attest that he had mastered it by the time I left Hogwarts."

"Would you like to see it, Mr. Fudge?" Harry asked, pulling out his wand.

"Put that away!" Fudge shouted. Dumbledore nodded curtly at Harry, who reluctantly returned the wand to his pocket.

Dolores Umbridge, who had remained silent as Cho, Bill, Lupin, and Harry gave their evidence, suddenly gave an odd little cough. "_Hem hem._ Not to give too much credence to these children's story, Minister, but—"

Harry seethed at her patronizing description of his and Cho's testimony, but just barely held his temper. Cho, however, shot up out of her chair, yelling, "I've had enough!" Turning her back on the conference table, she wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind her. A moment later, Liu silently rose and followed her.

"Well, Dumbledore," said Fudge, "I don't know what you're teaching them at that school these days, but respect for their elders obviously isn't part of the curriculum."

"Miss Chang has been through a very bad time in the past two days, Cornelius," said Dumbledore coolly. "I believe she has every right to be upset."

"Yes, well, be that as it may," Fudge said, "she had no business interrupting the Senior Undersecretary. Now, what were you about to say, Dolores?"

"Well, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was going to suggest that if Black _had_ somehow succeeded in suborning a small number of dementors, it would explain how he was able to escape from Azkaban."

Fudge looked surprised, then thoughtful. "I suppose you do have a point. All right, Dumbledore, the Ministry will investigate this rumor of renegade dementors in league with Black, and take a good look at that Higgins person the girl mentioned." Percy leaned over and whispered in Fudge's ear. "Higgs, yes. That's why I told you to write it down, Weasley." He turned his attention to Harry and added, "But these wild accusations against an employee of this Ministry simply cannot be tolerated! It is quite clear that the Dark wizard responsible for Miss Chang's abduction was neither Walden Macnair nor You-Know-Who but Sirius Black!"

"In case you've forgotten, Mr. Fudge," said Harry, in a tone of icy sarcasm that Severus Snape might have envied, "I've met Sirius Black, too. He doesn't speak with a thick Scottish brogue, and I've never heard of him using a battleaxe."

"Walden Macnair was here at the Ministry every day last week, and he arrived for work this morning just as usual! I hardly think—"

"That much is obvious," Harry snarled, finally losing his temper completely. Fudge went brick red and gobbled incoherently at him as he turned on his heel and stalked out the door.

Outside the conference room was a smaller chamber that appeared to be a waiting room, with a couch on the left, a pair of chairs to the right, a door opposite the one from the conference room and another door in the right-hand wall with a small placard indicating that it led to a washroom. Cho and Liu sat together on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms as Cho cried on her sister's shoulder. Hearing the door slam, she looked up. "Harry!"

"I got fed up, too," Harry said, dropping onto the couch beside her.

"I don't know how you could stand it as long as you did. Fudge is an idiot, and that Umbridge hag…! Where on Earth did she come from?"

"Under a rock, I expect," Harry deadpanned, hoping to cheer her up a bit.

It seemed to work, as she smiled at him through her tears. "I wish she'd crawl back under it then. 'These children's story…!' You'd think we were a couple of six-year-olds!" She wiped at her eyes irritably, which only served to make them redder. "I am so sick of crying," she muttered.

"There's a washroom right there," said Liu. "You could freshen up a bit, if you'd like."

"Good idea," said Cho, getting up from the couch. "Back in a moment." She disappeared into the washroom.

As soon as Cho was out of sight, Liu turned and gave Harry a long look of silent appraisal; he had the uncomfortable feeling that she was gazing into his soul. Finally, she spoke. "My sister really likes you."

"I like her a lot, too," Harry replied, warily.

Liu studied him for another moment before answering. "I'm glad to hear it. I don't want to see her hurt anymore."

"I didn't want her hurt at all. That bloody Macnair…."

"That's not what I was talking about," said Liu. "Look, let me make it clear. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, because you saved Cho's life and I'll always be grateful for that, but… if you break her heart, I'm going to hex you faster than you can say 'slimy Slytherins.'"

Harry gave a snort of laughter. Liu glared at him. "I mean it!"

"Liu," he said, sincerely, "if I ever break Cho's heart, I give you my solemn word I will stand still and _let_ you hex me."

"I'll hold you to that," she said. Then she flashed him a mischievous grin exactly like her sister's. "From what Cho says about your reflexes, that's the only way I'd ever manage it."

Before Harry could reply, Cho returned from the washroom. She had washed her face, and looked much more composed than before. Rejoining Harry and Liu on the couch, she took in their expressions, then said to Liu, "You haven't been trying to intimidate him, have you?"

Liu laughed. "Hey, I was a Gryffindor myself, remember? I know better than to try and intimidate one."

"Then what were all those dire threats about?" Harry asked, smiling slyly.

"No threats, just promises," said Liu.

Cho turned to Harry. "My sister's wonderful, but she can be just a bit overprotective sometimes."

"Me, overprotective? I'm letting you two stay at the inn together, aren't I?"

"Only because it's safer than home at the moment, and only with you and Sirius as chaperones."

"Fair point, sis," Liu agreed. "But all the same, Mum will probably pitch a fit when she finds out."

"I seem to recall covering for you on a few things that would have made her pitch an even bigger one," Cho commented.

"Is this blackmail I'm hearing?"

"Hmmm, let's just call it insurance, shall we?"

Harry listened to the affectionate banter between the two sisters with growing amusement, but also with a trace of wistfulness. He wished he could have had an older brother or sister like Liu when he was growing up, instead of being stuck with his obese, obnoxious, ignorant oaf of a cousin whose major purpose in life seemed to be making Harry miserable.

A few minutes later the conference room door opened again. Cornelius Fudge passed through the waiting room and out into the hall with barely a glance at Harry and the Chang sisters, with Percy following close behind him like a faithful dog. Dolores Umbridge, however, stopped for a moment, giving Harry a most unpleasant smile. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Potter," she simpered. "I feel certain I shall see you again quite soon."

Harry bared his teeth at her in a fair imitation of Snape's contemptuous snarl. "Not if I see you first."

Cho and Liu giggled as Umbridge's smile faded. "That will be as may be," she replied. "Goodbye, Mr. Potter." She stumped out the door after Fudge and Percy.

A moment later, Bill, Lupin, and Dumbledore emerged from the conference room. Without a word, Dumbledore held up the box of Chocolate Frogs. Harry, Cho, and Liu stood up and placed their hands on it, as Lupin and Bill did likewise, and Dumbledore once again uttered the command, "_Portus!_"

As she had when they arrived at the Ministry, Cho caught hold of Harry's arm as they landed. This time, it occurred to him that perhaps she didn't really need the support, and simply wanted the excuse to touch him. The idea created a stir among the somnolent butterflies that still resided in his stomach whenever he was anywhere near her.

"How did it go?" asked Sirius, looking up from the _Daily Prophet_ crossword puzzle he'd been using to pass the time.

Dumbledore sighed and sank into one of the armchairs. "Not nearly as badly as I had feared it might, but not as well as I had hoped. Were it not for the deaths of Spode and Steggles, I would have preferred not to involve the Ministry at all, but unfortunately, corpses require explanations. We achieved my most important goal – ensuring that no charges would be leveled against any of you – and Fudge has also agreed to investigate Terence Higgs and the dementors. However, he still refuses to consider the possibility that Lord Voldemort has returned, or that Macnair is one of his Death Eaters."

"Macnair had better keep out of my way," said Liu. "Unless he wants to learn what healing spells do when you cast them in reverse."

"I would ask that you not resort to such violent measures," said Dumbledore. "Any of you. Assaulting or challenging Macnair would be exceedingly dangerous, and defeating him would probably get you thrown in Azkaban."

"I'll bet Moony and I could take him and get away clean," said Sirius. "And the Ministry already wants to put me back in Azkaban, so what have I got to lose?"

"This is not the time for the Order to engage in assassinations," said Dumbledore sharply. "The risk is too great. I fear it may come to that, and if it does you may make Macnair your first order of business, but for the present I must insist that you avoid all contact with him."

"All right," Sirius grudgingly agreed, "Just as long as he avoids all contact with us."

"Naturally," said Dumbledore. "I would never order you not to defend yourself, Sirius – as long as you use a less, shall we say, elastic definition of self-defense than you sometimes have in the past."

Sirius shot Lupin a sidelong smile. "Why Moony, whatever can he mean?"

"Well, Padfoot old friend," replied Lupin, playing along, "I think he's suggesting that one or two of your run-ins with Snape when we were in school might have stretched the meaning of self-defense just a bit."

"You know he would have hexed me if he'd spotted me first," said Sirius.

"You two were at school with Snape?" asked Liu, looking interested. "What was he like back then?"

"The same greasy git he is now, only younger," replied Sirius.

"It's hard to imagine him as a student," Cho observed.

"Believe me," said Lupin, "it would have been even harder for us to imagine him as a professor. But then, I never imagined myself as one, either, so you never know."

"You were a much better one that Snape," said Cho firmly.

"Thank you, Miss Chang." Lupin glanced at his watch. "Well, I'd best get back to headquarters. Are you coming, Bill?"

Bill Weasley had been silent since the meeting, standing a little apart from the others and apparently lost in his own thoughts; Harry suspected that Percy's behavior had bothered him more than he was letting on. Hearing his name, he came out of his reverie with a start. "What? Oh yes, it is getting on, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, rising from his chair, "and we have work to do."

Goodbyes, handshakes, and hugs were exchanged, and Bill, Lupin, and Dumbledore Disapparated. "So," said Sirius, after they had gone, "how would you three like to give me a hand with my hippogriff?"

"I'd love to," said Cho. "He's the only one of my rescue party I haven't had a chance to thank yet."

They trooped out to the stable, where Harry, Cho and Liu spent an enjoyable half-hour brushing Buckbeak's lustrous gray coat, while Sirius fed him a sack of rats he and Lupin, in their respective canine forms, had caught in the stable the night before. "Better you than me," he muttered, as the hippogriff gulped down the last of the rodents.

After tending to Buckbeak, they returned to the common room. Sirius and Liu sat together near the fireplace, as Liu was curious to hear the full story of Sirius's escape from the supposedly inescapable Azkaban fortress. Harry knew the story by heart, and Cho had just heard it that morning; they were casting about for some other diversion when Harry remembered Hermione's birthday gift.

"Do you play chess?" he asked.

"A little," Cho replied.

Harry retrieved the chessboard from his trunk and set it up on one of the tables. Harry won the toss to determine who would play white, and they were off. He found it mildly disconcerting at first that his king shared Dumbledore's voice as well as his likeness, but soon forgot about it as the game developed. Over years of playing against Ron, who had a natural talent for chess, Harry had gotten fairly good at it, but he soon realized that he was no match for Cho Chang. She always seemed to be thinking at least two steps ahead of him, anticipating his moves, constraining his options, driving the game to an inevitable conclusion – and doing it all so elegantly that he didn't even mind losing. Finally, she said, "Checkmate," smiling sweetly at him across the board.

Harry kicked back in his chair and laughed. "And you said you only play a little!"

Cho shrugged. "I hold my own, I guess."

"Holds her own," snorted Liu. "Semi-finalist in Ravenclaw's little in-House tourney last year…"

"It was just a lark, nothing major…"

"…and just missed the finals of the British Youth Chess Association when she was ten."

"Pardon me, Liu, but don't you have your own conversation to attend to?"

"I'll make you a deal, little sister: you drop the false modesty, and I'll stop interrupting."

"I've got a better one: you stop interrupting, and I won't hit you with a Silencing Charm." Her light tone belied the threat, but Liu took the hint anyway, turning her attention back to Sirius.

"You know," said Harry thoughtfully, "the way you play chess is a lot like the way you play Quidditch."

"How so?"

"Remember our match, how you kept blocking me? It felt like you were controlling my every move. This was the same way."

"Except this time you couldn't outrun me with your Firebolt," she said. "I hope you don't mind," she added, a trifle anxiously.

Harry shook his head. "If I minded losing at chess, I could never have stayed friends with Ron so long. He wipes the board with me about nineteen times out of twenty." He grinned. "Just don't expect to win so easily the next time we're chasing the Snitch."

Cho sat up straight and said with mock severity, "I assure you, Mr. Harry Potter, that if I win our next Quidditch match _easily,_ I shall be _very_ disappointed."

"Not half as disappointed as my teammates, I'll bet. But you know, right now I don't think I care that much which of us wins our next match. I'll be happy either way, as long as we both play our best… and we both beat Malfoy this year."

"Amen to that!" Cho agreed.

"I think that calls for a toast," said Sirius, coming up behind Harry. "Dobby?" he called.

The elf Apparated next to their table. "What can Dobby get for you, sir?"

"A bottle of wine, please," Sirius replied. "And four glasses."

"Right away, sir!" Dobby agreed, popping back into the kitchen.

When he returned with the wine, Sirius poured a small amount into each glass and handed them around. Then he raised his and said, "To matches well-played and Malfoy's defeat."

Harry took a cautious sip. He had rarely tasted wine – just the occasional sip from a not-quite-empty glass, more for curiosity's sake than anything else, while cleaning up after one of the Dursleys' dinner parties. This wine was sweeter than any he could remember, and had a distinctly different scent.

"Did you bring this with you?" asked Cho, addressing her sister.

"Yes, I thought a little taste of home would be nice while we're stuck up here," Liu replied. "Plum wine," she added, in response to Harry's quizzical look.

"It's very good," he said.

"I'm glad you like it," she replied. "Especially since our parents will probably want to invite you over to dinner at some point to thank you for what you did; they always serve it when we have guests."

Harry's butterflies woke up abruptly and began what felt like a spirited game of Quidditch. Meeting Cho's sister was one thing; dining formally with her parents was another matter entirely. Fortunately, Sirius came to his rescue before he had to say anything. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea," he told Liu. "For the time being, it's important for Harry to stay where the Death Eaters can't reach him. Any dinner party he attends in the near future might attract some very unpleasant uninvited guests."

"I wouldn't want to cause your family any more trouble," Harry agreed.

"Stop that," said Cho. "You're not to blame for what happened to me any more than for what happened last month. All you did was rescue me, so stop acting as though you're guilty of something."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "All right, if you insist."

"That's better. Now," she added, raising her glass, "I have another toast: to heroes."

Sirius and Liu lifted their glasses in affirmation; Harry, blushing furiously, did likewise.

As they set down their glasses, Dobby reappeared to announce that dinner was ready – a four-course Chinese banquet he had prepared in honor of the Chang sisters. While they ate, Liu and Sirius shared tales of their school days – impressions of professors, memorable Quidditch matches, and the pranks that had earned Sirius and his friends their reputation as the biggest troublemakers of their era. As the conversation wore on, though, the humor of Sirius's reminiscences faded. He spoke of the first war against Voldemort, and the comrades who had not survived it. At the end of the meal, he proposed a final toast: "To absent friends, in memory still bright."

Harry noticed that Cho, having drained her glass, was staring into it like Professor Trelawney reading tea leaves; he saw tears forming at the corners of her eyes. _Cedric,_ Harry thought dismally. _She's thinking about him again…._

As soon as Dobby had spirited away the dirty dishes, Sirius looked pointedly at Liu: "Our turn at the chessboard, I think."

She quickly agreed, leaving Harry and Cho at the dinner table.

"Erm, Cho," Harry began nervously, "I suppose you were thinking about Cedric just now…."

She nodded, looking down at the tablecloth. "Can't help thinking about the past, I guess." Then she reached for Harry's hand. He looked up; she was smiling now. "And I can't help thinking about the future, either." She took a deep breath. "So, tell me about yourself."

"I thought everyone already knew about all that."

"We all know the legend; I want to know you."

Harry felt his cheeks start to burn. "Well, all right, but let's go sit over there…." He gestured at the two big armchairs where he had had his interview with Dumbledore the previous evening, across the room from where Sirius and Liu were already deeply engrossed in their game.

Dobby brought them another pot of Tian Shan green tea, and Harry gradually relaxed. He reflected that as recently as yesterday morning he would never have imagined how easy it would be to talk to Cho. She asked how he had learned he was a wizard, so he told her about the early manifestations of his magic – the haircut that had grown back out in a single night, his accidental leap onto the school roof while fleeing Dudley and his gang, the boa constrictor he had inadvertently let out of its cage at the zoo – about the Dursleys' desperate effort to prevent him receiving his first Hogwarts letter, and about his first meeting with Rubeus Hagrid.

Harry, in turn, asked Cho how long she had wanted to be a Seeker. She told him of her lifelong fascination with flight – not only with broomsticks, but with Muggle aircraft. Growing up between the Muggle and wizarding worlds, she had been to almost as many air shows as Quidditch matches, and spent as many weekend hours in the Royal Air Force Museum as she had in Diagon Alley. "I always thought," she said, "that if I didn't turn out to be a witch, the next best thing to playing Quidditch would be to become a pilot."

"What kind of plane would you have flown?"

"I don't know. Something light and fast and agile, like a broomstick. What I _really_ wanted was a Spitfire. I used to see them at some of the air shows, and I think they're the most beautiful planes ever built. There aren't many left that can still fly, though."

"Dudley had a model Spitfire Uncle Vernon bought him for his birthday one year, but he never managed to put it together right. I've never seen a real one."

"Maybe we can go to the RAF Museum some time. I still go there at least once every summer holiday, just for old times' sake…." She trailed off, yawning. "I think it's about time for bed."

"Sounds like a good idea," Harry agreed. "Do you want me to stay with you again?"

"I think I'll be all right," Cho replied. "I wouldn't want to make you sleep in a chair two nights in a row. But it would be nice if you could take the room across the hall, and leave the door open a bit, just in case. I'd ask Liu, but she sleeps like a log; you could hold a Quidditch match in her bedroom without waking her up."

"Of course. I have to get my trunk out of Sirius's room anyway, "

After bidding good night to Liu and Sirius, and getting their acquiescence to the sleeping arrangements, Harry and Cho went up the stairs together. Pausing in the doorway to her room, Cho whispered, "You know, we never did finish that discussion we were having before lunch…."

"Discussion? Oh!" Harry suddenly remembered what Sirius had interrupted earlier that day.

"Shhh." She stepped up to him and put her arms around the back of his neck; his own arms seemed to move of their own accord, wrapping around her and pulling her closer.

The warmth of her body and the clean scent of her hair filled his senses, and all he could see was her eyes, two dark, clear pools of infinite depth. The first tentative brush of her lips against his set every nerve in his body humming like the strings of a harp. Cho moaned deep in her throat, her lips parting hungrily, and Harry quickly found himself matching her passion with his own. The kiss went on and on, lip against lip, tongue against tongue, bodies pressed together, warming them both with the heat of desires long denied.

At last they drew apart. Cho's face was flushed and she was breathing hard; Harry knew his own face must look similar. "That," he said shakily, "was incredible! Is it always like that?"

"Not always that intense," Cho replied, her voice equally shaky. "But sometimes intensity isn't what you want. It's always good, though. Thank you, Harry; you can't know how much I needed that."

"I think maybe I can guess. You're amazing, you know that?"

"_You're_ amazing. And you've really never kissed a girl before?"

"I'm sure I'd remember."

"It must be native talent, then. Like your flying."

"Or maybe it was just a one-time thing – beginner's luck," Harry suggested.

"Let's find out." She moved into his arms again. The second kiss lasted longer than the first. When it ended, Cho said breathlessly, "Definitely talent."

Harry just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. After a moment, though, he said rather awkwardly, "Well, I guess we'd better… um…."

"Yeah," said Cho, reluctantly. "Well… good night, Harry."

"Good night, Cho. Wake me if you need anything, all right?"

"Thanks." She retreated into her room, leaving the door just slightly ajar. Harry went into the room across the hall, changed into pajamas, and crawled into bed, all the while replaying what had just happened over and over in his head. It took him a very long time to fall asleep.

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	10. Chapter 9: Contemplation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

This chapter is rated M for sexual content; if this kind of material offends you, please proceed with caution.

Disclaimer: The song Sirius sings in the shower in this chapter is "Oops" by Echo's Children; you can find the complete lyrics on their website, echoschildren dot org. It is used by the express permission of the songwriters.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Contemplation**

"These wounds won't seem to heal,

This pain is just too real,

There's just too much that time cannot erase…."

"You cry, I'll wipe away all of your tears,

You scream, I'll fight away all of your fears…."

--"My Immortal," by Evanescence (paraphrased)

Harry wasn't sure at first what had woken him. It was still dark, and he felt as though he'd only been asleep for a couple of hours. Taking his wand from the nightstand, he whispered, "_Lumos._" The tip of the wand lit with a dim blue glow, which he used to check his watch; it was a little after one o'clock in the morning. He didn't remember any disturbing dreams, and his scar didn't hurt, but he had the nagging sense that something was amiss.

He sat up, listening carefully for any sound that might explain his sudden awakening. After a moment, he heard it: a barely audible whimper from outside the bedroom door. He fumbled for his glasses, put them on, and slipped out of bed, treading lightly on the bare wooden floor. Cautiously, he pulled the door open and stepped into the hall.

The sound was clearer now, and it was definitely coming from Cho's room. Even more cautiously, he pushed the door just far enough to let him slip through. Feeling unaccountably nervous, he padded over to the head of the bed.

By the dim light from his wand, he could see that Cho was shivering, tears spilling from her closed eyes to soak her pillow. Her mouth was moving, and when Harry bent his head closer he could hear her murmuring, "No… no, don't… please let me go… Harry, keep away… they'll kill you…."

Harry reached out and touched her shoulder. When that failed to wake her from her nightmare, he took a firmer hold and gently shook her.

Cho woke with a start and stared up at Harry, her eyes wide with terror and her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. "Shhh," he whispered, touching a finger to his lips. "It was only a dream. I'm here, and I won't let anything hurt you."

"It's you I was worried about," she whispered. "I was so s-scared they were g-going to k-k-kill you, and… and it would all be my f-fault…."

As she began to cry, Harry sat on the edge of the bed and took her in his arms. Liu had obviously brought some of Cho's clothes from their house, as she had changed from her shorts and t-shirt into a long nightdress of cream-colored satin. "It's all right," he whispered. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I t-told Marietta about you asking… asking me to the ball," Cho sobbed. "If I h-hadn't, they wouldn't have known about… about you and me, and…."

"Shhh," Harry said again. "Look at me, Cho." She looked up at him, blinking away her tears. "Who keeps telling me not to blame myself for things I couldn't have predicted?"

She tried to smile. "I must sound an awful hypocrite," she murmured.

"No. You just have too much sense of responsibility. Like me."

This time her smile was genuine. "I guess we deserve each other, then."

"I guess so," Harry agreed. "Though what I could have done to deserve someone as wonderful as you, I can't imagine…."

"Shhh." This time, it was her finger against his lips. "I could make you a list, but we'd be up all night. Come here." She slid out of his arms and moved over to the other side of the bed, making room for him to lie down.

Harry hesitated. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Just for a little while."

Harry swallowed hard. His heart was pounding in his chest, and the butterflies in his stomach were holding a wild party to rival the victory celebration in Gryffindor tower the night they'd won the Quidditch Cup. "All right," he said. He climbed into the bed and stretched out on his side, facing Cho.

She pulled the covers up over both of them and snuggled up to him. "Hold me," she whispered. Harry took her in his arms again, and she wrapped hers around his chest. Instead of her tucking her head against his shoulder, as she had every other time he had held her, they were face to face, gazing into each other's eyes. Then her eyes closed, and her lips found his, and Liu and Sirius and the butterflies and the rest of the world went away. The kiss was less intense than those they had shared in the hall, but what it lacked in urgency it made up in tenderness. They took their time, savoring each other; when Cho paused to catch her breath, Harry moved to kiss her eyelids, temples, cheekbones, the line of her jaw and the hollow of her throat, before returning to the sweet, unhurried dance of lips and teeth and tongues.

Harry had felt a certain stirring south of his belt buckle during their earlier kisses, but then he had been wearing jeans and briefs, which concealed the effect. Now, dressed only in loose flannel pajamas, and with Cho pressed up against him from neck to knees, the realization that she could probably feel what was happening to him as clearly as he could struck him like a splash of ice water. Acutely embarrassed, he started to pull away from her, bringing his knees up to conceal the evidence of his arousal.

Cho opened her eyes and looked at him anxiously. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Harry mentally cursed the note of strangled panic in his voice. In a slightly more natural tone, he added, "That is, I, er… I just… I can't say." He was blushing so hard that his face felt sunburned.

Cho's expression of confusion changed to one of understanding. "It's all right, Harry; there's nothing to be ashamed of."

"You… you're not offended?"

"Of course not. It just means that you find me attractive and you like kissing me; why would that offend me?"

"Because, I… er… I don't know," Harry admitted.

"I'd be offended if you tried to make me do something I didn't want to do," she said. "Scared, too, because you're bigger than I am and I don't know if I could stop you. But I trust you, Harry. I don't believe you would ever try to hurt me."

"No, of course not," said Harry quickly. "But I thought… I mean, if you thought that I wanted to…."

"Why, you think I've never wanted to? Girls get those feelings too, you know; it just doesn't show so much on the outside."

Harry took a moment to absorb that. "You mean that you…?"

She smiled. "Kiss me again, and stop worrying."

Harry was never sure afterward how long that kiss lasted, only that it was somewhere between a few minutes and an eternity. It stopped only because exhaustion was catching up with them both. Harry was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and Cho was clearly fading. He started to get up, but she hugged him harder and murmured, "Stay with me."

"But… we shouldn't…."

"Please," she whispered. "I think if you stay, the nightmares won't come back."

Harry swallowed hard. "What about your sister?" he asked weakly.

"I'll tell her why I wanted you to stay. She'll understand."

"What about Sirius, then?"

Cho snorted. "Sirius had so many girlfriends when he was our age that he's practically a legend at Hogwarts; they still tell stories about him in the girls' dorms."

"That doesn't mean he'll approve of us sharing a bed…."

"Harry, you're thinking too much… and I thought I was the Ravenclaw here. Where's that famous Gryffindor nerve?"

Harry chuckled. "I don't know; it seems to evaporate whenever I look at you."

"You were brave enough yesterday to stand up to Macnair and his dementors. Is it so much harder to stand up to my sister and your godfather?"

Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore said something like that once, about it taking just as much courage to stand up to your friends as your enemies."

"I remember that. He was talking about Neville Longbottom. If Neville can be brave that way…."

"You win," Harry finally agreed, "you and your Ravenclaw logic." He grinned. "I have to admit, when I came back in here last night, I was really tempted to lie down and hold you like this. I thought you'd be mad when you woke up, though."

"I would have been… upset, if you'd done that while I was asleep. When I'm with someone, I have to be able to trust him not to try to take advantage."

"Then I won't even think about it next time," said Harry.

"You won't have to; the boundaries are different now." She kissed him once more, a quick, feather-light touch of her lips on his. "Thanks for staying with me, Harry."

"Thanks for asking me to," Harry replied, and returned the kiss in kind.

Cho stifled a yawn. "This isn't the best position for sleeping," she said. "I think we'll be more comfortable if I turn the other way."

"All right." Harry relaxed his embrace, and Cho turned onto her other side, snuggling up to him with her back against his chest. Then she reached back and took his hand, pulling his arm over her like a security blanket.

"Good night, Harry," Cho whispered.

"Good night, Cho," he replied. "Sleep well."

"I think I will, now. Thank you…." She fell silent, and after a moment her breathing slowed and deepened.

Harry marveled at how quickly she was able to fall asleep. Though exhausted himself, he wasn't sure he could sleep at all with Cho so close. Her absolute trust aroused a powerful emotion in him: not desire, though that was certainly present, but an overwhelming affection. He wanted nothing more than to watch over her throughout the night, protect her from all harm, drive away the fears that haunted her dreams. _Is this how it feels to fall in love?_ he wondered. He formed the words silently, tasting them, not daring even to whisper: "I love you, Cho Chang."

Harry sighed. _Will I ever get up the nerve to say it while she's awake?_ he wondered. _Maybe – if her sister doesn't hex me into oblivion first…._ Sighing again, he settled into his pillow and closed his eyes.

* * *

Harry awoke from a deeply erotic dream to find something warm in his hand. When he and Cho had gone to sleep, she had been clasping his right hand to her heart, holding it as a child might hold a teddy bear. Sometime in the night, their hands had moved up a bit, and Harry realized with a start what it was that filled his cupped palm. Moving very cautiously, he attempted to slide his hand away, but Cho's own right hand still covered his; at his movement, she made a small purring sound and pressed his hand more firmly against her breast.

Harry froze. He could feel her nipple poking into his palm through the satin nightdress, and he was very conscious that the cause of his embarrassment the previous night was happening again, and that he and Cho were as snug as two spoons in a drawer – she might as well have been sitting in his lap.

Again, he tried to withdraw his hand without waking her. The moment he started to move it, though, she whispered, "Please don't stop."

Harry raised his head to look at her face. Her eyes were still closed, but she was smiling slightly. Holding his breath, he moved his fingers in a slow, gentle wave, feeling the firmness of the warm flesh under his hand. Cho purred. "That feels nice…." She murmured. Interlacing her fingers with his, she moved his hand in a tight circle over her breast, making her nipple stiffen in response. As Harry, half-hypnotized, continued the circular caress, Cho shifted slightly away from him so that she could turn onto her back. Still without opening her eyes, she whispered, "Kiss me."

If their first kisses in the hall had struck passionate sparks, and those that followed Cho's nightmare had given warmth and comfort, this one ignited a smoldering desire. It was fierce, insistent, demanding; Cho's hands tangled in Harry's unruly black hair, pulling him harder against her mouth, while Harry slipped one hand under her shoulders and kept massaging her breast with his other.

What might have happened if that kiss had continued uninterrupted, Harry would never know. They heard a light tapping on the bedroom door; Harry jerked away from Cho as if stung, and she hastily pulled the covers up over them. The door, which Harry had left ajar, swung open to reveal Liu standing in the hall. "Good morning… oh!" She looked very surprised for a moment, but recovered beautifully. "Good morning, Harry," she said, with admirable composure.

"Good morning, Liu," said Cho, rather nervously.

Liu's voice took on a hint of irony. "I trust there's a good explanation for the change in sleeping arrangements."

"Nothing to it, really," said Cho. "I had a nightmare, Harry woke me up, and I asked him to stay with me. It worked, too; no more nightmares."

"I see," said Liu. "Harry, would you mind if I have a word with my sister alone?"

"Um, all right." Harry hurriedly got out of bed and walked past Liu into the hall, avoiding her eyes and feeling very glad that the surprise of her entrance had caused his gallant reflex to subside. She shut the door behind him.

Uncertain how long Cho and Liu would be, Harry decided the best course of action was to get showered and changed; that way, at least he wouldn't be facing Liu's potential wrath in his pajamas.

As he finished his shower, he heard Sirius singing again in the room next to Cho's; the song seemed to be about a wizard by the name of Joshua whose control of his spells was a little less than perfect. Harry couldn't make out all of the words, but he picked up the refrain, and by the fourth repetition he was singing along with it as he pulled on his clothes:

"Oops, oops, extravagant curses,

Adding new verses to a tired old song,

Oh, well, you can't be too picky,

Magic is tricky, and apt to go wrong!"

When Harry came out of his room, he found Sirius in the hallway, leaning against the frame of his bedroom door and grinning. "Not bad, Harry," he said. "Chalk up another similarity between you and your father. He had quite a nice baritone – and, unlike me, he could carry a tune."

"Thanks," said Harry. "So, shall we go down to breakfast?"

"What about the girls? It sounds as though they're awake." Indeed, Harry could hear the sisters talking in hushed voices from behind Cho's closed bedroom door, though he couldn't tell what they were saying.

"Um, I think they might be a while," said Harry quickly. "And I'm pretty hungry."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Something I ought to know about?"

"It's nothing, really," said Harry, looking down at his toes.

"Really?" Sirius didn't sound convinced. "Whatever it is, Harry, I'll probably hear it from Liu soon enough; you might as well tell your side of it first."

Harry couldn't argue with that. "I suppose so," he said, "but do let's go down and get something to eat, all right?"

They made their way down to the common room and took seats at one of the table. As Dobby brought out orange juice, eggs, sausages, and buttered toast, Harry explained how he had been awakened by Cho's crying out in her sleep, how he had woken her in turn and tried to comfort her, and how she had asked him to stay with her. He did not elaborate on the feelings her closeness had aroused in him, but Sirius seemed to have no trouble reading between the lines.

"The two of you seem to have gotten very close very quickly," he observed. "It's understandable, given what you did for her, but I'm not sure it's entirely wise. You're both very young, you know."

"Yeah," said Harry, "but we've both had more to deal with than a lot of people twice our age. Anyway, you were the one who said I was probably the best friend she could have right now. It seems like she agrees."

"True, but it sounds as though you're becoming a bit more than friends."

"I really don't know where this is going," Harry admitted. "But… I think I might be falling in love with her."

"Ah," said his godfather. "What makes you think so?"

"Well," said Harry slowly, his eyes fixed on his plate, "two days ago, all I wanted was for Cho to go out with me – have a butterbeer in Hogsmeade together, or go see a professional Quidditch match, and maybe…" – he blushed – "maybe kiss a little. And I've felt like that since Third Year, so this isn't anything sudden. Now, though, it's like it doesn't matter what I want. All that matters is her: protecting her, comforting her, making her happy if I can. If she needs a friend, then that's what I want to be – and if what she needs is something more than a friend, then I'll try to be that, too."

Sirius nodded gravely. "You are in love."

"You think so?" Harry asked.

"No doubt about it." He grinned suddenly. "I've heard something like this before, you know. I spent a couple of years listening to James Potter try to decide how he felt about Lily Evans. And we both know how that turned out." He reached across and mussed up Harry's hair. "She's a lucky girl, you know."

"I wouldn't call losing her boyfriend and being kidnapped and tortured by the Death Eaters lucky. And that happened to her because they found out I liked her, remember? So far, I've been anything but lucky for her," he concluded bitterly.

"Don't forget that you also saved her life," said Sirius. "We keep telling you, Harry: it's not your fault that Cho was abducted, and it is to your credit that she survived."

"Keep saying it," Harry sighed. "Maybe, sooner or later, I'll be able to believe it."

Harry fell silent as the Chang sisters came down the stairs. Cho shot him a reassuring smile as Liu said, "Good morning, Sirius." Something in her tone and the way she looked at his godfather made Harry wonder how late they'd stayed up after he and Cho had gone to bed, and just what they'd found to talk about.

Their conversation over breakfast was pleasant, but didn't touch on the subject of Harry and Cho's sleeping together. After they finished eating, Liu took her leave, stepped out the front door of the inn, and Apparated back to the Changs' shop in London. While Sirius went out to the stable to feed Buckbeak, Harry and Cho sat on the couch near the fireplace. "So," said Harry, "what did Liu say?"

"Well," Cho replied, "first she chewed me out about what our parents would think. I reminded her of a few things she's done that they wouldn't think much of either, and tried to explain how I was feeling last night and why I asked you to stay with me. Then she calmed down and asked me how I really felt about you. I wasn't completely sure of that myself until her asking made me think it through, but…" – her voice fell to a near-whisper – "I think I love you, Harry."

Harry's mouth went drier than Snape's wit, and the butterflies in his stomach seemed to be reenacting the Battle of Britain, complete with explosions. However, looking into Cho's eyes and reading the fear of rejection there, he found his voice. "I think I love you too, Cho," he said quietly. "I know that I've never felt this way about anyone before."

"Oh, Harry…." Tears welled up in her eyes.

Alarmed, he said quickly, "Please don't cry, Cho, I'm sorry if I said something wrong…."

He broke off as he saw that she was smiling. "It's all right, Harry," she murmured. "These are happy tears." And then she was in his arms, and her lips were on his, and for a long time that was the only thing in the world that mattered.

* * *

Note: Yes, I know, "My Immortal" is probably the single most hackneyed source for song-fics in all of fandom. It's just that, with the change in punctuation and tense that turns the chorus from a soliloquy and a lament to a dialogue and a promise, it fit the theme of this chapter too perfectly not to use.


	11. Chapter 10: Concentration

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

This chapter is rated M for sexual content; if this kind of material offends you, please proceed with caution.

Disclaimer: The lyrics to "The Wedding Dance," by Echo's Children, are used in this chapter by the express permission of the copyright owners, Cat Faber and Arlene "Callie" Hills. You can find lyrics to all their songs, MP3 samples of several of them, and information on ordering their CDs at their web site, echoschildren dot org.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Concentration**

"In the span of a night I have known you for years,

In the heights of your triumphs, the depths of your fears;

Each lesson and scar that shaped who you are –

And shy as a blossom, new insight appears."

--"Alys' Lullabye," by Echo's Children

The rest of the morning passed quietly. After Sirius returned from the stable, the three of them played Double Fanucci for a while. Cho took a few hands to pick up the rules, but once she did she seemed to read Harry like a book, while schooling her own face into a bland smile that gave nothing away. Sirius ultimately won the game, but Cho made him work for it; as he swept up the final pot, he asked her whether she'd played cards much in the past.

"No," she replied, "but I play wizards' mahjongg with my parents and Liu, and sometimes with my friend Yuriko Kanzaki." Cho grinned. "If you think I'm hard to read, try playing Yuriko-chan some time. She doesn't bluff much, but when she does I nearly always fall for it. I doubt even Dumbledore would have an easy time figuring out what's going on in her head."

After lunch, Cho declared her intention to get some of her summer schoolwork done; in addition to her clothes and her wand, Liu had brought her schoolbooks from London. Harry got out his own books and they sat in companionable silence for a while, as he began working on the summer assignments he had neglected in the uncongenial atmosphere of Privet Drive and the mounting anxiety of wondering what Voldemort might be plotting. Every so often Harry looked over at what Cho was doing, which consisted mainly of taking notes from a large book bound in dark green leather, with the title embossed in gilt runes of a type Harry hadn't seen before. The pages were of a thick, parchment-like paper whose faint, musty scent of age put him in mind of the Hogwarts library. Eventually, growing bored with his own studies, he asked her, "Is that for Ancient Runes?"

Cho laughed. "No, believe it or not it's for Muggle Studies. I have to write an essay on Muggle views of magic; this is one of their most famous fantasy novels. My Mum read it to me when I was a little girl. There are trolls and goblins and elves and even a dragon in it, but none of them are quite like the real ones… though the trolls are pretty close. I suspect the author might have known something about our world, though, because there's a wizard in it who could have been modeled on Professor Dumbledore."

"Sounds interesting," Harry said, coming around the table for a closer look. The book was open to a color plate of a great red-golden dragon lying curled atop a massive pile of treasure. In the foreground, he could just make out the shape of someone bowing to the dragon – a featureless gray silhouette. "Is he supposed to be wearing an invisibility cloak?" Harry asked.

"Close," said Cho. "It's actually an invisibility ring. It does more than that, though; in the books that come after this one, it turns out to belong to the Necromancer – he's a Dark wizard something like You-Know-Who, or maybe even worse."

"It's hard to imagine anyone worse," Harry commented.

They ended up sitting side by side, heads together, admiring the illustrations, which Cho explained had been painted by the author himself, and reading over some of her favorite scenes: three trolls arguing over how to cook the hero and his friends, a duel of riddles by an underground lake, and the hero matching wits with a dragon which was no mere beast, but a monster as clever and cruel as any Dark wizard.

Harry only half-listened. He'd never read this story before, nor even heard of it. Uncle Vernon wouldn't have let such a book in the house. "There's no such thing as magic!" he'd shout, chucking the book into the dustbin if it ever showed up at Privet Drive. _But there is magic, and you knew it all along!_ Harry mentally cursed at his absent uncle. _You knew about my Mum and Dad, and you knew about me, and all you ever did was lie to me!_

Cho glanced at what apparently was a strange look on Harry's face; he composed himself and went back to listening to her read.

The book kept them occupied until Liu returned from London for dinner. As at breakfast, she was friendly but avoided the topic of Harry and Cho's growing intimacy. After the meal, however, she gave Cho a significant glance, and the two of them disappeared into the library for another private conversation.

"So," said Sirius, after Liu closed the library door, "have you told her?"

Harry took a deep breath, the feeling of exhilaration tinged with terror that had been at the back of his mind all day rising to the surface. "Yeah," he said. Then he broke into a broad grin. "Actually, she said it first."

Sirius grinned back. "I suppose congratulations are in order, then."

"Thanks. I just wish I had a better idea of where we go from here. I mean, we only have one more day here, and after that we probably won't get to see each other until we go back to Hogwarts. And even then, we're in separate Houses and separate years." He shook his head. "I wish I could talk to Percy. I'd like to know how he and Penelope Clearwater managed to make time together at school – she was a Ravenclaw, too. If he wasn't being such a git…."

"He'll come around eventually," Sirius predicted. "But actually, you and Cho will probably have an easier time of it than he and his girlfriend did. You have the Marauder's Map, after all, and your cloak."

"I wasn't thinking of midnight assignations," Harry protested. "And why are you making suggestions like that? Aren't you supposed to be the responsible one here?"

Sirius laughed. "You sound like Molly. I had a little chat with her in the fireplace up in my room this afternoon, while you two were reading; she wanted to know how you were getting on. I don't think she trusts my judgment very much." He shrugged. "Maybe she's right; maybe I'm not cut out for this guardian business. I can't help thinking about what it would have been like if your parents had lived: I could have been your rich Uncle Sirius and spoiled you rotten every chance I got. But I don't think Molly gives you enough credit for maturity; she didn't think Dumbledore should have told you about the prophecy yet."

Harry groaned. "I've been trying really hard not to think about that," he said. "Life's complicated enough right now, trying to work things out with Cho, without having to worry about the fate of the whole wizarding world."

"I wish you didn't have to, Harry," Sirius said. "But it's not up to me, or you, or even Dumbledore to decide that. The Order will hold Voldemort off as long as we can, but sooner or later you'll have to face him. Our job is to buy enough time for you to learn everything you'll need to know when you do."

"Great," said Harry gloomily. "All the more reason I won't have much time to spend with Cho this year."

"I'd say it's all the more reason to make the most of the time you have," Sirius replied. "And the map and your cloak, if necessary."

"I don't know if she'd want to sneak out after curfew. But the problem during the day is that we do everything with our Houses. I mean, we can't sit together at meals, or visit each other's common rooms… I suppose there's always the library, though, and the Hogsmeade weekends."

"True. As for slipping out after curfew, she might just surprise you there."

Harry was struck by a sudden suspicion. "Sirius, did my parents ever use the cloak for… never mind, I don't think I want to know."

Sirius grinned. "I never asked. James loaned it to me a couple of times, though, so I could meet up with Polly Plunkett outside the Hufflepuff cellar after hours. We used to go up to the Astronomy Tower, if the weather was warm. Filch doesn't bother climbing all those stairs unless he absolutely has to, so it's pretty safe."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Harry.

The library door opened then, and the Chang sisters rejoined Harry and Sirius at their table. "Well, Harry," said Liu, "my sister has persuaded me to trust her judgment and not… interfere between the two of you, as long as you respect her limits. But," she held up one finger warningly, "if I hear one word from her about you pushing those limits, I'll hex you into the middle of next week. Do we understand each other?"

"Absolutely," said Harry. "Although I suspect Cho can do her own hexing, if she needs to." He smiled at Cho. "Not that you ever will," he assured her.

"I tried to tell her that, but she insisted on warning you anyway," said Cho, returning the smile with interest.

"Do I get a say in this?" asked Sirius.

"No," said Harry, Cho, and Liu, in unison. "It's all right, Sirius," Harry added. "Liu's not going to have any reason to hex me, so there's no need to warn her off."

"I wasn't going to," said Sirius. "I was just going to suggest that on the off chance that she did need to tell you off, she might want to stick with sending you a Howler. Liu, Harry beats Remus and me in practice duels more often than not, and we're both trained fighters – Mad-Eye Moody gave us a crash course in combat back when we first joined the Order that was the next best thing to Auror training."

Liu shrugged. "He did promise me yesterday that if he deserved a hexing, he'd stand still and take it like a man," she replied.

"But that's only if _he_ thinks he deserves it," said Sirius. "Anyway, as Harry says, it's probably never going to come up. So, what do you three want to do this evening?"

"What I _want,_" said Cho, "is to go for a walk outside and get a bit of fresh air, but I suppose that's not an option."

"Not a good idea, at any rate," Sirius agreed. "The Death Eaters might be able to pin down either one of you with a Location Charm if you stepped outside the inn's wards. We know they had a bit of Harry's blood, and they could have taken something – a strand of hair, a drop of blood, whatever – from you as well."

"Not blood," said Cho. "I think I would have noticed. But I suppose they could have taken a few strands of hair while I was unconscious. I can't imagine why they would, though."

Sirius shrugged. "I can think of a few possibilities," he said. "Polyjuice potion is the most obvious. Disguising Crouch _fils_ as Moody worked for them for ten months; if Harry hadn't come for you, one of them might have disguised himself as you in order to get close to him."

Cho shuddered. "What an awful thought. At least it's not likely to work now."

"No, having the real you around would be a bit inconvenient for the impostor. Anyway, going for a walk is out; any other ideas?"

"Music?" Liu suggested. "I brought my flute this evening; thought I might do a bit of practice."

Sirius shrugged. "Why not? Let's hear you play."

"All right." Liu took out her wand and pointed it at a long, narrow black case she had set on the desk when she first entered the inn. "_Accio_ flute," she said.

The case flew across the room and into her free hand, and she set it on the table and popped the clasps. Carefully, almost lovingly, she lifted the silver instrument out of its case and brought it to her lips. She began with a popular Weird Sisters song, "Howling at the Moon," which made Sirius grin; Harry was sure he was thinking of his excursion with Lupin the first night at the inn. She followed it up with a slower tune played in the five-tone Asian scale, and then a bright, fast-paced waltz melody that Harry thought he recognized from listening to Muggle wireless at the Dursleys'. "I think I've heard that one," he commented, when she had finished.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Liu replied. "That's the _Fledermaus_ Waltz; it gets played a lot." She turned to her sister. "Do you remember all the words to that song your friend Jan taught us when she came to visit last summer?"

"'The Wedding Dance?' I think so."

"That's good. I got hold of the sheet music for it, and I've been practicing the instrumental line. Would you like to sing?"

Cho colored slightly. "Oh, I don't know…" she said, glancing at Harry.

Harry smiled at her. "I'd really like to hear you," he said. "If you don't mind."

"Well, all right," said Cho, rising from her chair. Liu blew a single note on the flute to set the pitch; Cho took a deep breath and began singing in a light, clear soprano:

"Jenny wouldn't tell me why she laid awake last night,

But I saw her wide eyes glisten in the candle's gauzy light;

When I felt her body tremble to the pounding of her heart,

I reached to touch her shoulder, and I heard the music start…."

Liu began to play a harmony to the haunting, minor-key melody Cho was singing:

"I sat right up in bed and flung the window shutter wide;

My sister's flesh was icy where she shivered at my side.

The chestnut cast a shadow as I'd often seen before,

But I saw Jenny's eyes and she saw something more—

"There is something by the chestnut tree that from the barrow came;

It is singing to my sister, it is courting her by name.

She says that she must marry him the night he comes again;

_I'll be rolled in flour and fried before he'll have our Jen!_

"The flute's my only sweetheart; if this spirit fey and fell

Thinks that music is his power, he may find it's mine as well.

So I told her, 'Courage Jenny, for I think we have a chance;

Though I cannot stop the wedding, let me play the wedding dance.'

"It was an eerie wedding night, with no one there to see—

A shadow, and a shadow, and my sister there, and me.

And when the words were spoken and the spirit turned away,

I lifted flute to lip, and I began to play."

Liu played a couple of rounds of a quick-moving jig, then shifted into the melody of the refrain, as Cho sang along in an eerie, wordless lilt before picking up with the next verse.

"The flute spoke air and dancing; it was all that I could hear,

And the starry sky above us made an icy chandelier.

My sister took the hand of someone almost in my view,

And drew him, half against his will, till he was dancing too.

"Jenny stepped and swirled with a shadow in the gloom,

Leading out the dancing, as they must as bride and groom,

And shadow doubled shadow, till apparent to my glance,

The kinsmen of the groom were come to join the dance.

"There is something by the chestnut tree that from the barrow came;

It is singing to my sister, it is courting her by name.

She says that she must marry him the night he comes again;

_I'll be rolled in flour and fried before he'll have our Jen!_

"I play their dance for hours in the melody entwined

Till Jenny's passing feet are leaving tracks of blood behind.

I see I have accomplished all I hoped I would achieve;

They are captive to the dance, and while I play they cannot leave.

"But I cannot play forever here beneath the freezing skies

My arms are made of lead, my hair is hanging in my eyes

My fingers start to falter and to lose their strength and grace

And the look of terror deepens on my sister's face."

The second instrumental break was longer, as Liu played snatches of different dances, making it sound as though she was stumbling, but never quite losing her touch, always managing to twist the thread of the music back into a new tune when it threatened to get away from her. Finally, she returned to the original melody, as Cho came back in to sing the final verse:

"I force my hands to melody; I know I must prevail

For but a dozen minutes now – the sky is growing pale.

The sun puts forth his finger as a soul in terror moans…

And the groom and all the wedding guests are only standing stones.

"Jenny crumples suddenly and all my strength is done—"

Liu lowered the flute and added her voice to her sister's:

"And we laugh and cry together and we bless the rising sun,

And turn to eye the barrow, for the treasure it may hold –

For Jen's the Master's widow, heir to all his gold!

"There is something by the chestnut tree that from the barrow came;

It is singing to my sister, it is courting her by name.

She says that she must marry him the night he comes again;

_I'll be rolled in flour and fried before he'll have our Jen!_"

Harry and Sirius clapped enthusiastically as the last note died away. "Great song!" said Harry. "Where did you say you learned it?"

"From my friend Jan Nugginbridge," Cho replied. "She's from the Isle of Man, and the song is based on an old Manx legend."

"I see. Do you know any others like that?"

"Not off the top of my head," said Cho. "And none that Liu can accompany on the flute."

"Anyway, I think it's your turn to entertain us," Liu put in. "Why don't you tell us about one of your adventures?"

Cho shot her sister an exasperated look, and Harry snorted. "What was that line about adventures in the book we were looking at earlier? 'Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that make you late for dinner.' None of mine made me late for dinner, but only because you always get your tray right on time in the hospital wing. They're not exactly happy memories."

"I can understand that," said Cho, thoughtfully. "Still, it _would_ be interesting to hear what really happened with Professor Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone. There were so many different rumors floating around, it was hard to know what to believe."

"In that case, the wildest rumors were the closest to the truth," Harry said. "But it makes more sense if you know the background…." He outlined the chain of events that had led him and his friends to believe that Severus Snape was out to steal the Stone. When he got to Quirrell's attempt to knock him off his broom during his first-ever Quidditch match, Cho exclaimed, "So _that's_ what that was about! I was watching the match, of course, and I wondered what made your broom behave like that."

"So did I, while it was going on. Of course, afterward we all thought Snape was jinxing my broom, but in fact he was countering the jinx; he probably saved my life." Harry shook his head. "There's a bit of a story behind that, too, but it's not really my story to tell," he added, looking at Sirius.

"Maybe later," said Sirius, frowning. "It's… not something I'm proud of, and I think your story's more interesting anyway."

"All right." He told them about Hagrid's baby dragon, Norbert, and the trouble in which it had landed Harry and Hermione; the encounter with the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, when he had learned of Voldemort's presence near the school; and how he, Ron, and Hermione had run the gauntlet of dangers barring the way to the Stone. Cho smiled as he described Ron's chess prowess, and said, "He and I will have to get up a game some time."

Harry grinned. "That would be something to see. I haven't seen Ron beaten very often, but after our game yesterday I'd give you at least even chances."

"Best kind of game," said Cho. "So what came after the chessboard?"

Harry described the logic puzzle Snape had created with the potion bottles, and Hermione's solution. "I think the Sorting Hat messed up with that one," said Cho. "She should have been in Ravenclaw."

"I've wondered about that sometimes," said Harry. "She's plenty brave, though, as well as smart, so I guess she could have gone either way. The Hat offered me a choice, you know; it might have done the same with Hermione. She said she was hoping for Gryffindor on the train, the first time I met her."

"Maybe that's it, then," said Cho. "It considered putting me in Gryffindor, but decided on Ravenclaw, 'out of respect for the Great Teacher.'"

"Who's that?" asked Harry.

"Kong Fu Zi," said Liu. "Europeans usually call him Confucius. Anyway, I want to hear the rest of the story. What happened when you actually got to the Stone?"

Harry told them of his confrontation with Voldemort and Quirrell, how Dumbledore had hidden the Stone within the Mirror of Erised, and how the touch of his skin had burned Quirrell.

"So You-Know-Who can't touch you?" Cho asked curiously.

Harry shook his head. "He can now." He didn't elaborate, and his expression discouraged further questions on that subject.

There was a moment of silence, then Sirius asked Liu if she was up for another game of chess, and they decamped to the table where the board was set up. Harry yawned. "I think I'll make it an early night," he said. "We didn't exactly get a full night's sleep last night."

"Good idea," said Cho. They said good night to Liu and Sirius and headed up the stairs together, pausing in the hallway for a long, lingering kiss. When it was over, Harry murmured, "Good night, Cho."

Cho shook her head. "That wasn't 'good night,' that was 'see you in a minute,'" she said. "That is, if you don't mind sharing a bed again…."

"I don't mind, but what about Liu?"

"You heard what she said; she's agreed to trust my judgment and not interfere with what I want – and I want your arms around me tonight."

Harry smiled at her. "My arms are yours to command, fair lady," he said, attempting a courtly bow.

Cho giggled. "Why, thank you, sir knight," she replied, essaying a curtsey that was about as convincing as his bow. "Go ahead and get changed for bed, Harry," she added. "I'll be ready in a few minutes." She went into her room, closing the door behind her.

In his own room, Harry changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth. When he went back out into the hall, he found the door to Cho's room open. She was standing at the mirror, brushing her hair again; instead of the long nightdress, tonight she wore loose silk pajamas of the same royal blue as her Ravenclaw Quidditch robes. Hearing him enter the room, she turned and smiled. "Close the door," she said softly. When Harry had done so, she held up the hairbrush and asked, "Would you like to give me a hand?"

"Sure," he said, accepting it after a moment's hesitation. "Uh, how should I…?"

"Start with short strokes near the tips, then work up," she explained. "That way, the tangles don't build up." He followed her instructions and quickly become absorbed in the task: the soft weight of her hair as he lifted it away from her back, its silken sheen, the faint scent that made him think of sunny afternoons on the Quidditch pitch. He gradually worked his way up until he was brushing the full length of it in slow, deliberate strokes, so that any tangles wouldn't catch and hurt her.

Eventually she said, "Thanks, Harry," took back the brush and set it on the dresser. Instead of moving away, however, she leaned back into him. Harry slipped his arms around her, hugging her from behind and admiring their reflection. "We look good together, don't we?" said Cho.

"I think so," Harry agreed. Cho turned in his arms and tilted her head for a kiss.

"Harry," she said, after they broke the kiss, "I've been wondering: when you brought me in here, that first night, how did you get me up to the room? Did you use a levitation charm?"

Harry shook his head, smiling. "I carried you."

"Ah. I thought that might have been it." She looked faintly wistful. "I wish I'd been awake for that."

Harry shrugged. "You're awake now." Cho smiled up at him, wrapping her arms more firmly around the back of his neck, and he bent his knees and swept her up into his arms. As he straightened, she sighed happily and laid her head on his shoulder. "How do you feel?" Harry asked.

Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, "Safe." After a moment she added, even more softly, "Loved."

Harry stepped over to the bed, noting that she'd already turned down the covers, and gently set her down. With no hesitation this time, he climbed into bed beside her and reached over to turn down the oil lamp until it gave only a faint orange glow.

Cho came into his arms again. His awkwardness of the previous night seemed a distant memory; kissing her was now the most natural thing in the world, and his body's reaction to her touch was no cause for embarrassment but simply one more sensation to be savored with the rest. A small part of his mind was busily recording every detail of the moment and storing it away for the next time he faced a horde of dementors, certain that the Patronus this memory conjured would send the lot of them howling all the way back to Azkaban. His conscious attention, though, was focused entirely on the lithe, lovely girl in his arms.

At length, she pulled away from him, but only far enough so that she could get her hands between them to unbutton his shirt. When it was entirely open, she gently pushed him onto his back. He relaxed, letting her do as she wished. She kissed her way along his collarbone to the hollow of his throat, then down across his chest. Harry gasped in surprise as her lips touched his nipple; he'd had no idea it could be so sensitive. Cho smiled at him, her fingers trailing over the flat, taut muscles of his stomach.

Eventually she moved to kiss him on the lips again, then rolled onto her back beside him. He got up on one elbow to look at her, her black hair spread out on the pillow, her languid smile and half-closed eyes as she murmured, "Your turn."

Hesitantly, Harry undid the top button of her pajama top. She closed her eyes, making no move to stop him as he undid the rest of the buttons. He hesitated again after undoing the last one, his heart pounding in his chest. Cho arched her back, stretching like a cat, and the two sides of her shirt slid apart. Slowly, almost reverently, Harry reached out to caress her breast. Her areolae were barely wider than his own, but much darker, a dusky rose color, and crowned by nipples the size of his pinky fingertip which crinkled and hardened at his touch.

Harry had occasionally listened to the older boys in Gryffindor bragging about their exploits with girls. He was privately convinced that at least ninety-five percent of it was what Hagrid would term "codswallop," but he recalled one bit of advice – from George Weasley, of all people – which seemed to make sense: "Let her show you what feels good."

"Um, Cho?" he whispered.

"Yes?" she whispered back.

"I'm, um, kind of new at this… do you suppose you could… sort of show me what to do?"

"All right." She put her hand on her left breast; Harry placed his hand on the other, watching her carefully and trying to mimic the way she touched herself. She gasped as he squeezed her nipple, and he quickly let go.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, it felt good," she said. "Better than when I do it. It's kind of like the way you can't tickle yourself…."

Harry nodded, thinking of the startling sensation of her mouth on his own nipple, and of the even more startling information: _Girls do it to themselves?_ He filed that information away for a later date as he leaned down and caught the little nub between his lips, letting it slide free, eliciting another gasp. Her hands went to the back of his head, fingers entwining with his hair, trying to keep him against her breast – as if he had any idea of leaving it….

He continued exploring her breasts with his fingers and mouth, learning which touches would make her shiver and moan with pleasure, until she slipped her arms under his and pulled him up to kiss her mouth again. This was like the kiss Liu had interrupted that morning, Harry lying half on top of Cho with one arm around her shoulders and the other hand gently massaging her breast, but even more intense for the electrifying touch of skin on skin. Harry realized that he could feel Cho's heart beating, and their closeness made him feel as if his own heart would break apart at any moment.

One of his knees was between hers, and as his thigh brushed against her, she clenched her own thighs around it, pulling it more firmly against her center. His hardness pressed into her hip, and he jerked involuntarily. Without thought, lost in the sensations they were experiencing, Harry and Cho began to move in an ancient rhythm, seeking an elusive release neither one could name.

Cho found her peak first, going suddenly rigid and squeezing Harry's leg hard enough between hers to leave bruises, her moans rising to a keening almost too high to hear. A moment later, Harry followed her over the top, into a blaze of pleasure that obliterated conscious thought as thoroughly as any Stunning Spell.

Drifting gradually back to reality, Harry became aware of the patch of warm wetness where his body pressed against Cho's. Feeling suddenly ashamed, he mumbled an apology and began to roll away from her. Cho, however, held onto him, turning onto her side and maintaining the contact. "It's all right," she whispered.

"But… your clothes…" he stammered.

"It's nothing." She reached over to the nightstand and picked up her wand; waving it over them both, she murmured, "_Scourgify._"

Their pajamas were instantly clean and dry again. "Thanks," he said.

"Thank you," she replied. "I've never felt anything like that – and I wouldn't have believed it could be that good."

"Same here," Harry agreed. Like virtually all boys his age, he had long since learned how to relieve the tension that caused distraction during the day and wet dreams at night, but no release he had ever known, alone with his fantasies of Cho, had prepared him for the intensity of what he had just experienced. He wondered what it would be like actually making love to her – and whether she might be wondering the same thing. That, however, was one question he wasn't prepared to ask.

Cho yawned. "I suppose we'd better get some sleep." She began buttoning up her pajama shirt. "Just in case Liu walks in on us again in the morning," she explained. Harry nodded and buttoned his own shirt. When they were both fully dressed again, Cho turned over and spooned herself into his embrace.

Harry pulled the covers up over them both, then kissed the back of her neck. "Good night, Cho," he whispered.

"Good night, Harry."

* * *

Harry's sleep was once again troubled by nightmares. Over and over, he watched helplessly as Cho suffered and died. In one dream, she took his mother's place, falling to Voldemort's _Avada Kedavra_ in his nursery at Godric's Hollow; in another, he tried to rescue her from the lake in the Second Task of the Tri-Wizard tournament, pulling her to the surface only to realize that it was too late – she had drowned. Still another found him stumbling into the Chamber of Secrets, but this time it was Cho, not Ginny Weasley, who lay pale and still on the cold flagstones, her last spark of life already gone and Tom Riddle, entirely solid and alive, standing triumphantly over her with her wand in his hand, mocking Harry for his failure. Finally, once again, he saw the sweep and flash of Macnair's great axe, his own reaction coming a split second too late to stop its fatal arc.

He woke with a start to find Cho staring at him anxiously from a few inches away. His whole body was damp with sweat and his breath came in great ragged gasps as he fought for self-control.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Cho whispered.

"Bad dreams," he mumbled. His eyes stung and tears blurred his vision; he rubbed at them irritably. _I will _not_ cry,_ he told himself savagely. _I won't make a fool of myself in front of Cho, she needs me to be strong… damn it…._

"It's all right, Harry," Cho whispered. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head against her chest, comforting him as he had comforted her so often in the past three days. "It's all right," she repeated. "You've helped me so much, let me help you now…."

Harry gave in and let the tears flow freely. He wept for the horror Cho had endured, and for Cedric Diggory, and for his parents, and for all the suffering Voldemort had caused and all that was yet to come, beyond his power to prevent it. Cho held him in silence, stroking his unruly black hair.

Gradually the tide of emotion that had overwhelmed him receded. He pulled back a little from Cho and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Sorry about that," he muttered.

"Don't be," said Cho. "I'm not."

Harry smiled ruefully. "I thought I was supposed to be the strong one," he said. "It doesn't seem right…."

"Nobody can be that strong all the time," Cho replied. "You've been my anchor these last couple of days, Harry. You've given me enough strength that now I can give a little back to you, and I'm glad of it."

"So am I," said Harry. "I mean, I'm really not like this – contrary to what that Skeeter woman wrote about me, I'm not in the habit of crying at night – but once in a while it all gets to be a bit too much. It's nice, for once, to have someone around who understands what it's like…." he stopped. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"Perfect sense," said Cho. She smiled suddenly. "Remember that time, a few days after the article came out, I ran into you in the corridor outside the Potions dungeon?"

Harry blushed. "Yeah," he said. "I sort of snapped at you, didn't I?"

"And I told you you'd dropped your quill."

"Right. I don't think it really was my quill, actually; I had an extra one in my bag later that day. I think somebody else must have dropped it."

It was Cho's turn to blush. "It was mine," she said. "I just… it seemed like the whole school was against you, thinking you'd put your name in the Goblet yourself, believing every stupid lie in that in that stupid article, and I wanted to let you know there was at least one person at Hogwarts who believed in you. And then you shouted, and I just… froze. I couldn't think of anything to say, and I had my quill in my hand, and I just sort of blurted out that you'd dropped it."

"I'm sorry I shouted at you," Harry said.

"It's all right. Anyway, it wasn't exactly because you were shouting that I froze. It was that, well…." She hesitated, then went on, "I have a confession to make, Harry. The night after you fell off your broom during that match with Hufflepuff the year before last, I sort of… snuck into the hospital wing to see you. I can't really say why; I suppose I just wanted to see if you were all right, after falling like that. Anyway, when I saw you, you were having a nightmare… kind of like just now…." Cho trailed off, looking nervous and embarrassed, but Harry just nodded. "That was because of the dementors," he said. "Whenever they come near me, I hear Voldemort murdering my mother. I was probably dreaming about that."

"Yes, that was it," Cho agreed. "You were talking in your sleep… anyway. When you shouted about crying over your mum, I thought for just a moment that you knew I'd seen you. I hope you're not angry," she finished anxiously.

"If you'd told me all that three days ago," Harry said slowly, "I'd probably have been pretty brassed off. But now… no. I'm just glad it was you, not anyone else. But why did you come to see me in the middle of the night? I mean, you could have gotten in trouble, and it's not as if you wouldn't have been welcome during the day."

"I don't really know," said Cho. "I suppose I thought it would be awkward, since we'd never been introduced. Anyway, it wasn't the first time."

"Oh?" Harry asked. "When was the first time?"

"Your first year, after you fought with You-Know-Who," she replied. "The Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match was the next day, and Mackie – our team captain back then – wanted to know if the rumor that you were out of action was true. The teachers were still trying to keep it under wraps. I went over to the hospital wing to find out – told Madam Pomfrey that I knew you, and she let me in to see you for a minute."

"I see," said Harry. "I guess that makes sense. I'm sure if one of the other Seekers were rumored to be laid up in hospital the day before a game, Oliver would have wanted to find out for certain, no matter how many school rules he had to break." He smiled, remembering Oliver Wood advising him to knock Cho off her broom after she'd blocked him from the Snitch during their first match together. "I wonder how different things would have been, if I'd woken up while you were there," he added thoughtfully. "We could have been friends for the last three years. I might not have been so shy about asking you to the ball…."

"No way to know what would have happened," said Cho. "But we're together now, and that's what matters."

"True." Harry hugged her, and she sighed contentedly.

After a brief silence, Cho asked, "Harry? I was wondering… you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, of course… but what were you dreaming about, just now? I thought I heard you whispering my name, right before you woke up."

Harry grimaced, not really wanting to tell her, but she had been open with him, and he felt he could do no less. "It was… what could have happened to you, if I hadn't been quick enough with that Disarming Charm. I don't want to lose you, Cho."

"Oh," she said faintly. She snuggled up closer against him. "I'm here," she murmured. "Safe in your arms; you're not going to lose me."

"I keep dreaming about it, though," Harry said. "Cedric's death, my mother's death, Ginny Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets… but in the dreams it's always you."

She shivered. "It sounds like the same kind of nightmare I was having last night, before you woke me," she said. "I wonder if it's because we're going to be apart? I mean, the day after tomorrow I'll be going home, and you'll be off to that headquarters your friends talk about, and I probably won't see you again until school starts…."

"I've been thinking about that, too," Harry admitted. "It's going to be rough, but at least we should be able to send each other letters. We might be able to fire talk, too – and maybe Dumbledore would even let us visit. I mean, Liu's in the Order, so she'll probably be at their headquarters sometimes, and it sounds like your parents' shop will be pretty well protected. There's at least a chance we can see each other some time before we go back to Hogwarts."

Cho brightened. "Let's hope so. I'm really going to miss you, Harry – especially this. I doubt we'll be able to spend any nights together even after we get back to school."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Harry. "I mean, if you wanted to, of course… there are ways of getting around the school at night without getting caught."

"Even with your cloak and that map you mentioned yesterday, though, where would we find any privacy? Even if we slipped into each other's Houses, which I don't think is a very good idea, we both have roommates, and anywhere other than our Houses there are the ghosts to worry about…."

Harry rubbed his chin. "True, I wouldn't fancy being caught snogging by the Bloody Baron… still, they can't see through the cloak any more than Filch can. I'm sure we could find somewhere out of the way enough that as long as we stayed under the cloak we'd be safe."

"I hope so. I wouldn't want to give this up entirely…." Cho yawned. "Do you want to go back to sleep now?"

"Yeah, I suppose we should," said Harry. "Good night, Cho."

"Good night, Harry. I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Note: My version of Cho's thoughts and feelings during her brief exchange with Harry in Chapter Nineteen of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,_ the back-story about her seeing him in the hospital wing, and her Manx friend Jan Nugginbridge are all borrowed from my beta-reader Monkeymouse's novel "Or Die Trying: The Story of Cho Chang," featured on this web site. Although my Cho is different from his in several particulars, mostly relating to her family background, his interpretation of her character is the closest to my own of any fan-fic writer I know. His novel, which retells the entire Harry Potter canon from her point of view, is also one of the best works of fan-fiction I've ever seen in this or any other fandom. If you've enjoyed this story so far, I would bet a sack of Galleons that you'll enjoy his as well.

I hope I don't need to tell anyone this, but the book Harry and Cho were reading in this chapter was J. R. R. Tolkien's _The Hobbit_. If you haven't read it, you really shouldn't be wasting your time with fan-fic until you do. Tolkien's work, more than that of any other writer, is the bridge between the myths and fairy tales of centuries past and the modern fantasy genre; Harry Potter, at least as we know him, could not exist if Bilbo Baggins had not been there first.


	12. Chapter 11: Consummation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

This chapter is rated M for strong sexual content; you have been warned.

Disclaimer: The lyrics to "Wings," by Echo's Children, are used in this chapter by the express permission of the copyright owners, Cat Faber and Arlene "Callie" Hills. You can find lyrics to all their songs, MP3 samples of several of them, and information on ordering their CDs at their web site, echoschildren dot org.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Consummation**

"I know you're an emotional girl;

It took a lot for you to not lose your faith in this world –

And I can't offer you proof…

But you're gonna face a moment of truth…."

--"Matter of Trust," by Billy Joel

"Lovers should treat one another like shy children."

--Ingmar Bergman

_I could get used to waking up like this,_ Harry thought, curling his fingers lightly around Cho's left breast. She stirred, pressing her body back against him, and he nuzzled the back of her neck until she turned in his arms so that he could kiss her mouth.

Harry and Cho spent the next half hour quietly kissing and caressing each other, building from a slow, languorous start toward the crescendo of passion they had discovered the previous evening. They paused, smiling at each other, as Sirius began singing "Three Jolly Coachmen" again in the shower next door – and then their eyes widened and they both tried hard to suppress their laughter as Liu began to sing along, her voice coming unmistakably from the same shower.

When he had his voice under some semblance of control, Harry asked, "Do you suppose they…?"

Cho just nodded helplessly, one hand pressed to her mouth and tears of mirth running down her cheeks. Finally she choked out, "My sister's taking a shower with the most wanted fugitive in Wizarding Britain… and the worst part is, I can't even threaten to tell Mum, because we're not supposed to know where Sirius is!" Another fit of giggles overwhelmed her.

Harry, though, was struck by a thought that wiped the grin right off his face. "Cho, if we can hear them this clearly, doesn't that mean they must have heard us last night?"

She stopped laughing abruptly. "I… don't know," she said. "The truth is, I was so far gone at the end I don't know how we sounded."

Harry gave an involuntary snort of laughter, and she blushed. "Was I that noisy?"

"Not that I minded, of course," said Harry hastily, blushing himself. "But I'm afraid there's a good chance they heard us."

Cho looked thoughtful. "This isn't Liu's first time flaunting a boyfriend. When I was twelve it was just to embarrass me, but now it's, oh, I don't know…."

"One-upping you?"

"Good guess."

"It wasn't a guess. Before I got my Hogwarts letter I was always being compared to Dudley: 'Why can't you do this like he does?' Drove me mad sometimes." Harry ran a finger lightly over Cho's lips, and she kissed it just as gently. "I'm sure she just wants you to be happy, though."

Cho took Harry's fingers in her own hand. "Oh, I am, my love, I am. I just don't like being pushed, and she knows it." The singing had stopped, but the water was still running next door. Cho's smile suddenly grew broader, and her eyes took on an almost wicked gleam. "Harry," her voice dropped to a whisper, "you feel like having some fun?"

"I thought we were," he grinned.

"Just get up and follow my lead."

Reluctant but curious, Harry got out of bed. Cho followed after. As she started to get dressed, Harry couldn't help but stare at her body. She had just fastened her bra when she walked up to Harry and gave him a quick but powerful kiss.

"What's that for?" he whispered.

"Inspiration, for both of us." As Cho stepped into her jeans, she began moaning. "Harry… oh, Harry… yes… yes, love, there, right there…."

With as much as he fumbled trying to do up his own jeans, Harry was glad he had only a t-shirt to go with them. "Cho," he moaned, "ah, Cho."

Cho's breathing grew louder and faster as she whispered a spell to make the bed. "Harry! Now! Now, Harry, now!"

"Yes!"

Now they were both grunting and moaning in rhythmic unison, fully dressed and grinning like fools. Suddenly, Cho screamed and pushed over the small bedside table, which hit with a heavy thud. She quickly righted it again.

"Cho?" Harry asked, but Cho put her finger to his lips. The delivery owl from the Daily Prophet chose that moment to swoop in the window. Cho untied the paper, motioned Harry to sit at the desk, and tossed it to him. She sat in the recliner by the window and picked up a school textbook.

On the other side of the wall, the water had stopped, voices were muttering indistinctly. There was a wet squeak, a thud, and Liu cursing (or so it sounded to Harry) in Chinese. Not five seconds later the door flew open, with Liu shouting, "Cho, are you all—" while Sirius shouted, "What's going on—"

Harry couldn't help but stare at the two of them, dripping wet, each barely clothed in a towel. He especially stared at Liu, clutching her towel to her chest with one hand (which did little to conceal her mons and failed entirely to cover her nipples) while the other hand rubbed the spot on her hip where she had fallen in the shower.

Cho raised her head from Miranda Goshawk's Standard Book of Spells, Volume Six, to look sweetly at Sirius. "May we help you?"

Liu looked fit to breathe fire. All she could say was "Oooh," as she turned on her heel and stalked angrily back to Sirius's room.

Sirius, meanwhile, fell into the stuffed chair by the door, his towel still around his waist, and laughed longer and harder than Harry had ever seen anyone laugh.

By the time Sirius stopped, Liu had returned, wearing a bathrobe, and was standing by Sirius' chair. For his part, Sirius was wiping away tears of mirth.

"Godric's bones, that one was worthy of the Weasley twins!" he finally managed to say. "Best laugh I've had in decades."

"No reason to laugh so much about it," Liu muttered.

Sirius reached up and took one of Liu's hands in his own. "You wouldn't say that if you'd ever been to Azkaban, love. That place makes you forget there ever was such a thing as laughter."

Liu turned her icy gaze to Cho. "Jealous, were we?"

"No, but thanks for asking," she replied. "Look, we're happy for you, really we are. It's just that, well, the way things are…"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Being a bit obvious, were we?"

"I just don't want you to go through Cedric again," Liu said to Cho. "No sense missing another opportunity."

"You can rest assured, big sister, that the opportunity won't be missed. Harry and I just have our own schedule, is all; we don't need any pushing or prodding."

"So to speak," Sirius said.

Cho looked at Harry, realizing how Sirius had taken what she'd said, and they both blushed crimson. Sirius gave another barking laugh, rose, and put his arm around Liu's waist. "We'll see you lot in the kitchen, then," he chuckled as he ushered Liu out.

* * *

Just before Liu left for London, Cho whispered something in her ear. She smiled and said somewhat cryptically, "That's the second musical request I've had this morning. What about you, Harry? Can you think of any tunes you'd particularly like to hear later on?"

"Not off-hand," Harry replied.

Liu shrugged. "I'll see you all this evening, then. Try not to have too much fun while I'm gone." She gave Sirius a lingering, not at all platonic kiss, winked at her sister, stepped out the front door and Disapparated.

"That was… interesting," Harry observed.

His godfather grinned unrepentantly. "She's something, isn't she?"

"They both are," said Harry, wrapping an arm around Cho and kissing her rather more decorously on the cheek. "We may just be the two luckiest wizards in all of Britain."

"Care to test that theory with a game of Double Fanucci?" asked Cho mischievously.

"No thanks," said Sirius. "You know what they say: lucky at love…"

"Unlucky at cards," Harry finished.

"Spoilsports," said Cho, pouting. "You just don't want me getting my own back from yesterday – and I was so looking forward to cleaning out your Gringotts vaults…."

"Hermione did that already," said Sirius. "All I have left to lose is my ancestral manse – and trust me, you wouldn't want it. Dreary place."

"Oh, I don't know," said Cho, a bit wistfully. "It's where Harry's going to be for the next month, so it couldn't be all bad."

"You'd have to deal with Molly Weasley as a chaperone, though," Sirius replied. "She's a lot less, ah, _permissive_ than Liu and I."

Cho shrugged. "All right, so we couldn't share a room, but at least I'd get to see him."

"True enough," said Sirius. "Still, with Liu in the Order we might to be able to work something out."

"I'll bet the two of you will be seeing a lot of each other," said Harry, a bit enviously.

Sirius shrugged. "It depends on what kind of work Dumbledore has her doing," he said. "Not everyone in the Order spends much time at headquarters."

"Sure, but if she wants to spend the night there instead of at her flat, who's to tell her otherwise? It's your house, after all."

Sirius smiled sardonically. "For my sins, yes," he agreed. "And Liu will always be welcome in it. And if her little sister happened to be visiting her some evening, and wanted to come to dinner with her, why, she would be equally welcome. Now, I've got to go feed Buckbeak; I'm sure you two can find ways to pass the time." He headed out to the stable.

Harry and Cho moved to the couch in front of the fireplace; Harry reclined against one arm of couch, while Cho curled up in his lap. "The other day," she said softly, "you never finished telling me what happened in the graveyard, when… when You-Know-Who came back."

"Voldemort," said Harry firmly. Cho shivered slightly but said nothing. "Professor Dumbledore told me once that fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself. It's all right to be afraid of Voldemort, Cho – anyone in their right mind would, except maybe Dumbledore – but there's no sense in being afraid to say his name."

"I suppose it's just the way I grew up," said Cho. "Everyone knew you didn't say the name – it was always 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,' or sometimes 'The Dark Lord.' It was years after I first heard about him that I even found out that his name was… Voldemort," she finished in a barely audible whisper.

Harry smiled at her. "That's better," he said. "All right. After… after the part I already told you about—"

"After Cedric was killed," she whispered.

Harry nodded. "Yes. After that, Wormtail tied me to one of the gravestones with the Binding Charm." Harry went on to describe the ritual that had revived Voldemort, the summoning of the Death Eaters, and the duel which had ended with his wand forcing the _Priori Incantatem_ effect from Voldemort's, drawing out shades of Voldemort's last few victims, including Cedric and Harry's parents. He explained how they had distracted Voldemort, enabling him to seize the Portkey and Cedric's body and escape.

At the end of his narrative, Cho had tears in her eyes, but was maintaining her composure fairly well. "Did Cedric, um… did he say anything about me at all?"

Harry shook his head. "There wasn't time to talk," he explained. "He… we were all too busy with Voldemort. He asked me to take his body back to Hogwarts, but that was all."

"Oh." She shook her head. "I guess it's silly, but I was hoping he might have… given you a last message for me, or something."

"I would have told you," Harry said. He hesitated, then added. "There was something else, though. When we were getting ready to rescue you, I had… I don't know what you'd call it. It was like a dream, but I definitely wasn't asleep. I was thinking about Cedric, and what I could have done differently that night – if I'd just taken the Cup when he told me to, or stunned Wormtail the moment I saw him without waiting to see who he was… anyway, I suddenly heard Cedric's voice in my head. I don't know if it was my imagination playing tricks on me, or maybe something lingering from the _Priori Incantatem._ Anyway, he told me I shouldn't blame myself, and that if I still felt as though I owed him something, I should help save you, because… because he loved you."

Cho wiped the tears from her eyes and studied Harry's face for a long moment. Finally, she said, "I believe you. I can't say if what you heard was real, but I think… if Cedric knew I was in danger, and he couldn't be there, you might be one of the first people he'd think of sending to help me."

Harry shook his head. "_My_ first choice would have been Professor Dumbledore, but we couldn't reach him in time. We couldn't reach anyone; the Death Eaters shot up Dark Marks all over southern England to distract the Ministry and the Order. If we'd been able to get any help, I wouldn't have been involved in the fight."

"Just as well you were," said Cho. "Anyone else might not have been as quick with that Disarming Charm…." She shivered.

"Well, I'm sure Dumbledore could have managed the whole thing a lot more neatly – I doubt Macnair would have escaped from him. Still, I can't say I'm too sorry for the way things turned out…."

"Neither can I," Cho agreed, hugging him.

Sirius returned from the stable then and took a seat at the opposite end of the couch. Their conversation wandered from one subject to another seemingly at random, but thinking it over later, Harry realized that Sirius had been subtly drawing him out, inducing him to talk about his hopes and fears, likes and dislikes, and doing the same for Cho. While helping them get to know one another better, Harry thought his godfather had also picked up a fair amount about Liu by getting Cho to talk about her family.

After lunch, Sirius said he was going to lie down for a while. "I didn't get much sleep last night," he explained, with a wink and a grin that made Cho giggle and Harry blush. Cho agreed that an afternoon nap seemed like a good idea, and she and Harry retired to what he now thought of as "their" room.

Cho turned away from Harry, and his eyes widened as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, unhooked her bra and dropped it on top of the shirt, and skinned out of her shorts, slipping under the covers wearing nothing but sheer white knickers. "Well? Are you coming?" she asked.

The question shook Harry out of his near-trance. "Um, yeah, of course," he stammered. Following Cho's example, he stripped to his jockey shorts and climbed into bed beside her. She snuggled up to him, but then said, "I know you'd like to make out, Harry, but I think we really should get some sleep. We didn't get much last night, and I think we might get even less tonight."

"All right," Harry replied, keeping the disappointment out of his voice. "I suppose you're right about tonight."

As usual, Harry was amazed at how quickly Cho could fall asleep in his arms. He lay awake for quite a while, intensely aware of her bare breast cupped in the palm of his hand. When at last he slept, his dreams were a torrid collage of erotic images and sensations.

He awoke to find that the last dream had been no dream at all: Cho was moving against him, her firm little bottom pressing into his hips. Already highly aroused, Harry pushed back, straining against her. Cho made a purring sound deep in her throat, then, with feline agility, turned in Harry's arms and pulled him on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Once more, instinct took over; Harry pressed himself into his love, stroking over the heat at her center with nothing between them but two thin strips of cloth. She gasped and pulled him closer, urging him on. Her dark eyes caught his gaze and held him fast, mesmerized by a magic more potent than the Imperius Curse.

He exploded against her and kept going; another dozen strokes and she began to keen, arms and legs wrapping him in an unbreakable embrace. There followed an indefinite time of soft kisses and incoherent murmurs, before they finally separated.

Harry looked down at himself rather ruefully, and said, "I think we'd better shower before dinner."

Cho glanced at the clock, then reached for her wand. "No time," she said. "_Scourgify!_"

In an instant they were both clean and dry; even the sweat had evaporated, leaving nothing behind. "How do you do that?" Harry asked, impressed. His own Cleaning Charm, though adequate for clearing away spills, could never substitute for bathing.

Cho shrugged. "Charms are my best subject," she said. "My wand's, too, Mr. Ollivander said." She grinned suddenly and added, in a passable imitation of the eccentric wand-maker's voice, "'Rowan and unicorn hair, nine-and-a-half inches, pliable. Not a great deal of raw power, but excellent for the more precise sorts of spell-casting, particularly charms.'"

Harry laughed. "Come on, let's get dressed," he said. "I'm starving."

They pulled on their clothes and went downstairs to find Sirius and Liu sitting at the chessboard; they were down to the endgame, with less than a dozen pieces left in play and no clear advantage. Liu looked up at Cho and smiled. "Can you see a way out of this impasse, Cho?" She asked.

Cho studied the board for a moment, then nodded. "Yes," she said. "But you'll have to figure it out for yourself; no fair asking for help."

Liu laughed. "All right, little sister, I'll fight my own battles. Why don't you two see how dinner's coming along?"

"Good idea," said Harry, heading for the kitchen.

Dobby was in his element, animating spatulas and serving spoons with quick gestures and directing them to stir several pots and pans he had going on the stove, from which emanated the mouthwatering scent of curry. "Good evening, Harry Potter, sir!" called the elf. "Good evening, Miss Chang! Dinner will be ready very soon."

"Thanks, Dobby," said Harry. He and Cho withdrew to the common room again. Liu and Sirius's game ended in a stalemate around the time Dobby emerged from the kitchen and began serving the meal, which consisted of lamb, rice, and various vegetables in several combinations and degrees of spiciness, from mildly piquant to palate-scorching, and a drink something like a milkshake, made from yogurt and mango juice. Harry had seldom tasted anything like it; his aunt and uncle despised "foreign" food, and Dudley, who had pocket money for takeout meals and would eat just about anything that didn't bite him back, was not in the habit of leaving leftovers for his hated cousin to enjoy.

"Was the Indian menu your idea, Liu?" asked Cho.

"Mine, actually," said Sirius. "I haven't had a decent curry since I came back to England."

"I'm surprised Dobby knew how to make it," Harry commented. "It doesn't seem like Lucius Malfoy's kind of thing, somehow."

"I don't know about Lucius," said Sirius, "but Dobby served the Malfoys for five generations. Lucius's grandfather Claudius was the Undersecretary of Magic for Indian Affairs during the Raj; he spent a lot of time in Calcutta."

"How do you know so much about the Malfoys?" Cho asked.

Sirius snorted. "Purebloods. In our insular little society, everyone knows everyone else. If you trace back enough generations, we're all related, too. Have you ever met Lucius's wife?"

Harry nodded. "Narcissa Malfoy. I saw her at the World Cup."

"Narcissa _Black_ Malfoy," Sirius amended. "My first cousin."

Harry thought about that for a moment. "That would make Draco your cousin too, right?" He shuddered. "And I thought _I_ had rotten relatives. Yours put the Dursleys in the shade."

Sirius nodded grimly. "Narcissa and that slimy son of hers aren't even the worst of them. Her sister Bellatrix gives Morgana le Fey some real competition for the title of worst dark sorceress in the history of Britain."

"What did she do?" asked Cho.

"She, her husband, and his brother were arrested along with Barty Crouch _fils_ for torturing two Aurors into permanent insanity with the Cruciatus Curse. This was after Voldemort fell. For some reason, they thought the Aurors knew where he'd gone, and they wanted to find him and restore him to power."

Harry felt a chill, recalling the trial he had witnessed in Dumbledore's Pensieve: a tall witch with hooded eyes shouting her defiance at the court, affirming her loyalty to Voldemort and predicting his return. Now that he thought about it, he could see a vague family resemblance to Sirius in the woman's thick, lustrous black hair and aquiline features.

"That's horrible," said Cho in a subdued voice. "It's hard to imagine someone like that being related to you, Sirius… I mean, you seem so nice…."

"Oh, I've had my moments," Sirius replied. "I've done a few things I'm not at all proud of. But I never really believed all that rot my parents talked about pureblood superiority. I loved Quidditch, you see, and some of the best players in the League were half-blood or Muggle-born – the Wortlethorpe Warblers were all Muggle-born, and they won the League Cup when I was eight. Then I went to Hogwarts and made friends with James Potter. The Potters had impeccable bloodlines, but they always insisted that what you did was more important than who your ancestors were, and they had no use at all for the Dark Arts or pureblood prejudice. And of course the other really outstanding student in our year was a Muggle-born girl by the name of Lily Evans."

"Well," said Liu, giving Sirius a winsome smile, "I for one am glad you don't have any problem with half-blood witches."

"So am I, _cheri,_" Sirius agreed, smiling back at her. "I'd certainly be missing out if I did."

Cho made a gagging sound and mimed putting her finger down her throat. Liu laughed and said, "You're one to talk, little sister. Or would you care to explain in detail just how Harry chases your nightmares away?"

Cho raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I give," she said. "How about this: I won't tell Mum your new boyfriend is a fugitive, and you don't tell her that I _have_ a new boyfriend, okay?"

"Oh, I don't think she'll mind your seeing Harry, just as long as she doesn't find out where he's been sleeping. And I can't very well tell her that without admitting what kind of 'chaperone' I've been."

"Good point," said Cho. "I couldn't really tell her about Sirius, either. So, since you have nothing on me and I have nothing on you, I guess we're both free to tease each other mercilessly."

"Not quite," Liu disagreed. "If you want me to _keep_ playing the role of shut-eye chaperone, I'd suggest reining it in a bit."

"Oh, all right," said Cho. "I'm sorry, Liu. I guess I'm just a bit jealous that you and Sirius can keep seeing each other, and Harry and I probably won't for the next month."

"I understand," Liu replied. "And I'll try to get you some time together. I can't promise anything, but you might be able to visit the Order's headquarters with me at least once or twice."

"Thanks, Liu. So, did you remember the music I asked you about?"

"Of course," Liu replied. "But hang on a bit; Sirius asked first, after all."

"What did you ask for?" Harry asked.

"A song I haven't heard for fifteen years," Sirius replied. "It was a favorite of your parents; James sang it for Lily when he was courting her, and she used to sing it to you to get you to sleep."

"I stopped by Flourish and Blotts this morning," said Liu. "Took me nearly an hour, but I finally found a songbook with sheet music for it. The flute part is pretty simple, I was able to get it all down this afternoon."

"Shall we?" said Sirius, rising from his seat.

Having finished eating, the four of them moved to the end of the room by the hearth. As Harry and Cho cuddled up on the sofa, Liu took her flute from its case on the mantelpiece, and raised it to her lips. Sirius stood beside her as she began to play a sweet, melancholy strain; after the first few bars he joined in, his strong tenor complementing the plaintive voice of the flute. The harmony served to keep him on key for a change, as he sang,

"Small in the plaza, a lone figure stares,

Young in her yearnings and old in her cares.

She doesn't have jewels, diamonds and rings,

But under her coat she has wings.

"Crumbling sidewalks and drizzling skies,

People brush past her with unseeing eyes,

The veil of illusion like spider web clings,

Under her coat she has wings.

"Cruel is the world that she is caught in,

Dreaming, her wings she has forgotten,

Footsore as any mortal going,

Lost here, she looks on me unknowing….

"Cloaked in the dark her aloneness I chart,

She thinks she is human; I might win her heart…

But keeping her crippled, the thought of it stings –

Under her coat she has wings.

"Under the stars alone I find her,

Gazing on heaven, I remind her…

Suddenly bursting to astound me,

Wings like a beating heart around me….

"Closing my eyes for a moment alone,

I needn't look up, I know well she has flown,

Her trench coat lies shed like the leaves the wind flings,

Under her coat she had wings.

"Creature of air myself I knew her,

Though I have wings I can't pursue her.

Her wings are white and shining feather,

My wings are dark and gleaming leather….

"Wishing I'd kissed her just once while I could,

Kneeling I touch the last spot where she stood,

Love and compassion are bitter cruel things,

Under her coat she had wings."

The song ended; Liu quickly set her instrument back in its case, then turned to Sirius, who took her in his arms and held her close. Harry looked at Cho and saw tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. He was close to tears himself, moved not only by the words and melody, but by an aching sense of familiarity; he couldn't remember hearing the song before, yet a part of him seemed to know it by heart. _That was my mother's lullaby,_ he thought. _How many times must I have heard her sing it? I wish I could remember…._

At length, Cho broke the silence. "That was lovely," she said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sirius replied. "I'm glad you liked it. So, what was your request?"

"Well," said Cho, "I was thinking that I really should have danced with Harry at least once at the Yule Ball. I did look for you, Harry, when one of Cedric's teammates asked him for a dance, but you'd gone outside by then."

"I'm sorry I missed you," said Harry. "One dance with you would have made the whole evening a lot more enjoyable. Although… I'm not very good at dancing," he admitted. "So maybe it's just as well."

"I'm not much of a dancer either," said Cho. "I'd never tried it before that night, but Cedric taught me the basics."

"Sounds as though you both could use a bit of a refresher," Liu observed. "What do you think, Sirius?"

Sirius shrugged. "The last time I danced was at James and Lily's wedding," he said. "I don't know that I'll be much use as a teacher."

"As long as you can do a simple waltz," said Liu. "Here." She took his left hand in her right, raising the joined hands to about shoulder height; Sirius put his other hand on her back, just below her left shoulder, while she rested hers on his upper arm. Then Liu began softly counting the beats of a waltz, "_One,_ two, three, _one,_ two, three…." After taking a moment to catch the tempo, Sirius took a step forward with his left foot on "one;" Liu followed by stepping back on her right. Then a sidestep to Sirius's right on "two," followed by a closing step on "three." On the next measure, Sirius stepped back with his right foot, sidestepped and closed to the left. Then the entire pattern repeated.

After the fifth repetition, they stopped. "That's called a box step," said Liu. "If you can do that, you can waltz. Most of the other basic steps are variations on that one. It won't win you any prizes at Blackpool, of course, but it will let you dance at a ball without making a fool of yourself. Now, let's practice a bit."

Liu and Sirius used their wands to rearrange the furniture, moving chairs and tables aside to create a large open area in the center of the common room. Then Liu partnered Harry, while Sirius partnered Cho. It took Harry a while to get the hang of it, but Liu was a patient tutor, carefully explaining each detail of the technique – how the positions of their hands allowed each partner to feel where the other was moving, how to shift his weight on every step so that he never got on the wrong foot, how each partner watched over the other's right shoulder for fellow dancers or other obstacles, and what it meant to lead and follow. Once he was accustomed to the basic box step, she showed him how to open it out by turning each sidestep, and how a couple could work their way around a dance floor while circling each other, alternating left and right turns.

After about half an hour, Liu and Sirius turned their pupils loose to dance with each other. Harry faced Cho, feeling unaccountably nervous as they joined hands, creating the solid frame Liu had emphasized. _Why should I be feeling butterflies now?_ he wondered. _I've held her so much closer than this, yet it feels like I've never touched her before. She's so pretty…._

Liu began counting the rhythm again, and Harry and Cho started to dance -- awkwardly at first, with many missteps, nervous giggles, and whispered apologies, then gradually learning to move together, stepping between each other's feet and turning as one. Cho closed the gap between them until Harry could feel her pressing lightly against his right hip. The proximity actually seemed to make leading easier. "That's good," Liu approved, when she noticed what they were doing. "The woman who taught me to dance used to say that in a good closed position, you could hold a dinner plate between your bodies at waist level and it would never fall."

"I think we're ready for music now," Cho said, as she and Harry stopped in front of her sister.

"All right," Liu agreed. She walked over to the desk, on which sat a portable stereo system. "I just hope this works," she commented. "Muggle electronics won't do anything at Hogwarts, after all, and this is a magical building too…."

"It shouldn't be a problem," Sirius said. "The Harrington Arms is protected by magic, but it wasn't _built_ by magic the way the castle was."

"One way to find out," said Liu. She tapped the buttons on the top of the stereo, and music filled the room. A solo violin played a delicate, wistful air, supported by other strings and a piano in the background. The stately tempo made dancing easy; Harry and Cho floated around the room, caught up in the melody and in each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Liu and Sirius dancing as well, keeping to the far side of their makeshift dance floor, but his attention was focused on keeping his feet moving in time to the music and savoring the feeling of Cho Chang in his arms, the two of them weaving a pattern of beauty and grace as ethereal as the song itself. Harry felt he finally understood what Dumbledore had meant on Harry's first evening at Hogwarts, when he'd called music "a magic beyond all we do here."

When the song ended, Harry and Cho moved still closer, holding each other in a silent embrace. Time seemed to slow; Harry could feel Cho's heart beating in time with his own, hear her every soft breath. At length he whispered, "I love you, Cho Chang."

"I love you, Harry Potter," came the soft reply. "I wish this time could last forever."

"So do I. But we will be together like this at school; I don't know how or when, but I know we'll find a way."

Cho backed up just enough to look up at him; she was smiling. "You're right, Harry. What could ever stand in the way of a Ravenclaw mind and a Gryffindor heart?"

"A Slytherin snout?" Liu suggested, coming up behind Harry. "I once got caught with a boy by Severus Snape; I don't recommend it."

"We'll be careful," Harry assured her. "Snape's had it in for me since the day I arrived at Hogwarts; I'm used to staying out of his way."

Sirius said, "If Snape gives you a hard time this year, use that mirror I gave you and let me know about it; I'll sort him out."

"Don't you have to stay out of sight?" asked Harry skeptically.

"Don't forget, I got in and out of Hogwarts undetected when there were dementors guarding the place and Dumbledore thought I was after your blood; doing it now would be a piece of cake compared to that."

"Yes, but you weren't looking to get into fights with teachers then, either," Harry replied.

"Oh, I won't fight with him," Sirius assured him. "I'll just transfigure him into a bat in his sleep."

Cho shook her head. "Waste of time. Nobody would notice the difference."

As Liu and Sirius laughed, Harry added, "I'm not sure Snape does sleep. You can run into him in the corridors at any hour of the night. Anyway, Sirius, I appreciate the offer, but I can handle Snape myself; you need to keep out of sight, at least until we can prove to the Ministry that you're innocent."

"Not much chance of that unless we get hold of Wormtail," said Sirius gloomily. "And so far he's done just as good a job of staying out of sight as I have."

"We don't need Wormtail," Harry disagreed, "we just need any Death Eater who's seen him, and a dose of Veritaserum."

"If Dumbledore and Snape can find a way around that poison of Voldemort's," Sirius amended. "Veritaserum does us no good if they don't live long enough to answer questions." He yawned, then added, "I'm going to bed. Coming, love?"

"Not yet," Liu murmured, "but very soon, I expect." As Harry groaned at the ribald pun, Liu turned to her sister and said. "Good night, Cho. Don't stay up too late, and don't do anything I wouldn't have done when I was your age, all right?"

"I won't," Cho assured her.

"Good," said Liu, giving her a brief hug.

They all said good night, and Liu and Sirius had retired upstairs. The music was still playing, a slow, melancholy piece with the same piano and violin backed by an entire orchestra's worth of woodwinds that conjured misty, windswept moors in Harry's mind. The gloomy prospect of a month away from Cho suddenly seemed very real and immediate; he shivered and moved toward the fire.

Cho seemed to sense the change in his mood; she shut off the stereo and drifted over to stand beside him, watching him as he stared morosely into the flames. After a minute or so, she asked, "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry shook his head and shot her a wry smile. "I was thinking about the next month," he said. "You're not even gone yet, but I miss you already."

Cho moved closer, wrapping her arms around him. "I know that feeling. But… that isn't all, is it?"

Harry looked down into her dark eyes, wondering how she could read him so well. He shook his head again. "No. I was also thinking about my parents. There are so many things I wish I could ask them right now…."

"Ah," said Cho. "Yes, I suppose there would be. It's must be awful, not having any family you can talk to…."

Harry hugged her, grateful for the comfort. "At least I have Sirius now," he said. "He's good to talk to. Still, I wish you could have met them; I think they'd have liked you."

"I hope so. They might not have approved of everything we've been doing, you know."

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "They married awfully young, right out of Hogwarts. I don't know how old they were when they first got together, but they could have been as young as we are. And remember, Voldemort was around back then, too. It would have been a scary, uncertain time – just like now."

"The kind of time when it's best to seize the moment?"

"Yes, and not wait for a future that might never arrive. Heaven knows their time was short enough," said Harry bitterly.

"They made the best of it, though. They made you."

"Yes, and died for me. I sometimes wonder if I was worth it."

"They thought so." She hugged him harder. "_I_ think so. I'm sorry they died, Harry, and I'm sorry that you never got to know them – but I'm not sorry that you're here."

Harry felt his spirits lift. "Then neither am I," he said. "You know, I think I was wrong before. My parents wouldn't have liked you, they'd have loved you – just like I do."

Cho backed away just enough to smile up at him. "I love you too, Harry. And another thing – I'm not sorry that you're here, but Vol—" she bit her tongue, then pressed on, carefully enunciating each syllable of the dreaded name, "Voldemort is – and I have a hunch you'll make him a lot sorrier before this war is over."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure going to try," he agreed. "For my parents, for Cedric, for you… I swear I'll do whatever I can to make him pay for everyone he's ever hurt."

"I believe in you, Harry," she said. "If anyone can stop him, you can."

The radiant confidence in her eyes was almost frightening, but Harry felt suddenly exalted, more sure of himself than he had ever been. Up to this moment, the prophecy of which Dumbledore had told him had felt like a vast, perhaps impossible burden; only now did he begin to feel it as the call of destiny. "That's truer than you know," he told her. "Professor Dumbledore told me the other night that the reason Voldemort tried to kill me when I was a baby was because he'd learned of a prophecy about the one person with the power to destroy him. Dumbledore says that person is me."

"Professor Dumbledore is usually right," said Cho. "But prophecy or no, I'm certain you can do it. I don't know how, but… every time you've crossed paths, you've beaten him. I know you'll do it again."

"I will," Harry promised. He paused, then added, "But not tonight. So, what do you want to do now? Up for another game of chess?" His smile made it obvious that wasn't what he had in mind.

Cho grinned back at him. "Don't make me hex you, Harry. We've got one more night here; let's make the most of it."

For answer, Harry pulled her in and kissed her hard. Then, bending at the knees, he lifted her off her feet, eliciting a surprised "Ooh!" before she relaxed in his arms and let him carry her up to their room.

Once there, the two of them quickly shed their outer clothes and slipped under the covers, kissing with a passion and urgency born of their impending separation. Harry was lost in rapturous adoration of Cho's breasts when she whispered, "Do you want to…?"

He pulled back so that he could see her face; she was biting her lip nervously. "I thought you promised Liu that you wouldn't…."

"Do anything she wouldn't have done at my age?" Cho snorted. "Liu was Gryffindor's leading wild child. Remember what she said this morning about missing an opportunity? That's about the only thing she wouldn't have done. If I left here a virgin, she'd wonder what was wrong with me."

"Oh." Harry swallowed hard. "So, um… you've never…?"

She shook her head. "No. Cedric… he wanted to, but I wasn't ready. Then I decided I wanted to, but we couldn't find anywhere private enough… until the Third Task. His parents were staying in Hogsmeade, and he was going to stay at the Three Broomsticks, in the room next to theirs; I told him I would take my broom and fly down to his window and spend the night with him. And then he went into that maze and never… never…." Her voice cracked, and her eyes filled with tears. Harry actually felt a fleeting moment of relief at this return to what was by now familiar territory. He held her close, stroking her hair, while she sniffled against his chest.

"I keep thinking," Cho whispered after she'd calmed down, "we're going to say goodbye tomorrow, and we'll be apart until school starts… and there's a war on. Anything could happen; I might never see you again. Before we leave here, I want you to make love to me."

Harry's head felt stuffed with cotton – Cho's voice seemed to come to him from a thousand miles away, everything was moving much too fast, and his racing thoughts couldn't keep up. "Well… all right," he stammered, then mentally kicked himself. _Brilliant, Harry,_ he thought. _The girl of your dreams wants to make love with you, and the best you can come up with is "well, all right?!"_ "I mean, yes, I'd love to. Um, how do we… what do we do first?"

"Help me with these," Cho said, arching her back and hooking her fingers in the waistband of her knickers. Slowly, almost reverently, Harry drew the wispy garment down her thighs. As he reached her knees, she lifted her legs up so that he could pull them the rest of the way off. For the first time, Harry gazed upon his love's naked form; the sight took his breath away.

"Your turn now," Cho whispered. A bit awkwardly, Harry peeled off his jockey shorts and dropped them on the floor. Cho returned his appreciative gaze with just a hint of nervousness. After a moment, though, she murmured, "Kiss me."

Once again he lay above her, skin pressing skin from their eager mouths down to Cho's feet, caressing the outsides of Harry's calves. He was intensely aware of the warmth radiating from the juncture of her thighs, a moist heat promising that her arousal matched his own.

At length, she drew her knees up and apart in a silent, unmistakable invitation. Harry raised himself up to his own knees so that he could see what he was doing, and cautiously, gingerly, positioned himself at her entrance. "Now?" he whispered.

"Now." She opened like a flower before him, and her hand guided him slowly in, until his hardness was entirely enclosed in her softness. Gazing down at her lovely face, he saw that she was biting her lip – but her expression was not so much of pain as intense concentration.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She gave a jerky nod. "It hurt a little at first," she said. "But it feels good now."

"Can I move?"

She nodded again. He drew back until he was barely inside her, then carefully pressed forward again. Her eyes widened and her hands went to his hips, urging him on. The second thrust was quicker, surer, and now she was pushing back against him, rising up to meet him, and the sensation expanded beyond anything he had ever experienced or imagined….

It was over far too soon. A tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed Harry's self control; his nerves lit like quick-burning fuses, and the explosion they triggered seemed to blow him clear out of his body. He collapsed, retaining just enough presence of mind to take some of his weight on his elbows so that Cho could breathe. For a little while they just lay there, catching their breath; then he looked down into her eyes and whispered, "Thank you."

She pulled him down into a fierce hug and whispered back, "You're welcome. I love you, Harry."

"I love you too."

They were silent again, until something that had been niggling at the back of Harry's mind suddenly broke through to the surface, chilling him to the bone. He squeezed his eyes shut in mortal embarrassment. "Um, Cho," he muttered miserably, "I feel like a total _git_ for not thinking of this earlier, but shouldn't we have used some sort of, um, protection?"

"It's all right, Harry," said Cho. Harry dared a quick look at her expression; she was smiling at him. "Thanks for asking, even if it was a little late. I'm safe. Liu gave me Morgana's Gift over a year ago.

"Morgana's Gift?" Harry repeated, silently cursing at how foolish he sounded.

"The Contraceptus Charm. I can't get pregnant until the spell is reversed."

"Oh," said Harry, nonplused; he'd never heard of such a spell. "That's… convenient."

"It's a lot better than what Muggles have to put up with," Cho agreed. "Of course, the spell itself is a _lot_ older than the countercharm that lifts it; it used to be called the Contraceptus Curse."

"Huh? How is that a curse?"

"A pureblood wife's first duty is to give her husband an heir; if she can't, the marriage can be annulled. Witches used to use the Contraceptus Curse to make their romantic rivals barren. It's called Morgana's Gift because she used it against Queen Guinivere – that's why she and King Arthur never had children."

"Oh," Harry mumbled, feeling lost again.

Cho smiled sympathetically. "Binns puts you to sleep, too, doesn't he? The Ravenclaws in my year take turns using Infusion of Insomnia to take notes in his class, otherwise I'd never have heard that story either."

"I usually get notes from Hermione," said Harry. "She actually stays awake in History of Magic. I think she might have been in the hospital wing when Binns talked about Morgana, though."

"It's a wonderful story," said Cho. "Only a crashing bore like Binns could possibly make it dull. Maybe we can look it up in the library some time."

"I'd like that," said Harry. After another brief silence, he asked, "Are you tired?"

"Not especially," Cho replied. "You?"

"Not at all. I was thinking… what I'd like most right now is a nice, hot bath… with you."

Cho gave him a radiant smile. "Are you using Legilimency, Harry? You just read my mind."

"Great minds think alike," said Harry, grinning back at her. "I'll start the tub."

A few minutes later, Harry reclined up to his neck in hot, sweet-scented water with Cho Chang in his lap, his arms encircling her lithe young body just below her perfect breasts. They relaxed together in silence, until Harry, still coming down from the blissful, almost intoxicated contentment that followed their lovemaking, suddenly frowned. Replaying the act in his head, he thought he had seen a fleeting look of disappointment cross Cho's face at the moment of his climax. "Cho?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering… did you… did it feel good, for you?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Yes, of course," she replied, just a bit too quickly.

"I… it didn't seem as though you… I mean… it was over so fast…."

"Liu says that's usually how it goes, the first time."

"But you didn't…."

"Finish? Well, no," she admitted. "It still felt good, though."

"I'm so sorry, Cho," Harry said. "I wanted you to feel as good as I did."

"It's all right, Harry. It did feel good, and it was only the first time; I promise you, it won't be the last."

Reassured, but still feeling slightly guilty, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Well… since you mention it… you know how you can do it for yourself… 'having one off at the wrist,' I think you fellows call it?"

Harry blushed scarlet. "I, um…."

"Look," said Cho, a trifle impatiently, "Liu once told me that if any boy ever claims he doesn't do that, I shouldn't trust anything else he says, either. Anyway, the point is, girls do something similar."

"Really?" Harry asked, curiosity overcoming his embarrassment. "How do you…?"

"Give me your hand."

It took a little while for Harry to get the hang of what Cho showed him how to do, but once he did he soon had her writhing and moaning ecstatically in his arms. Her passion quickly restored him to full arousal. Noticing his reaction, she murmured, "Let's go back to bed." They scrambled out of the tub; Harry reached for a towel, but Cho picked up her wand and said, "_Evanesco,_" drying them both off in an instant.

Back in their bed, she quickly pulled him on top of her. This time he entered her easily, and the sensations, while no less powerful, seemed somehow more controllable. He was able to achieve a steady rhythm, and she worked right along with him, pressing back just as she had in their earlier miming of this ultimate act. Finally his control slipped, swamped by the rising tide of sensation and emotion. Feeling him falter, Cho gasped, "Keep going!" Driven by that urgent plea, Harry continued to thrust, and in a moment found himself caught in a velvet vice, riding a razor's edge between pleasure and pain as she climaxed with him. When it was over, Harry and Cho lay silent in each other's arms, all passion spent, drifting off to the most peaceful sleep they had ever known.

* * *

Note: The waltz to which Harry and Cho dance in this chapter is the "Serenade to Spring" by Secret Garden. A sample of it can be heard on Amazon; it's the sixth track on the CD "Songs from a Secret Garden." The entire track is also available for downloading from the iTunes Music Store.


	13. Chapter 12: Condonation

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

This chapter is rated R for strong sexual content; you have been warned.

* * *

**Chapter 12: Condonation**

"I love you as deeply as many years could make me,

But less deeply than many years will make me….

Everything I loved before has come to one meeting place in you,

And you have gone out into everything I love."

--Alizon Eliot, in Christopher Fry's

_The Lady's Not for Burning_

"It is easier to get forgiveness than permission."

Stuart's Law of Retroaction

Harry awoke to the sensation of Cho's soft lips brushing against his. There wasn't an instant of confusion, of "Where am I? What's happening?" He knew exactly where he was, and what was happening. He was at the center of the universe, and he knew who was there with him….

They kissed gently at first, then passionately, hungrily, as awakening senses sparked awakening desire. At length Cho put her hand in the middle of Harry's chest and gently pushed him away, murmuring, "Lie back, love, there's something I want to try."

Harry rolled onto his back and gazed raptly up at her as she straddled his waist and slowly, inch by glorious inch, sank down upon him until he was completely inside her. Her face scrunched up in discomfort for a moment, and he asked, "Are you all right?"

"A little sore from last night," she said. "But I still want to do this." She raised herself up until he was just barely inside, then lowered herself again, faster this time, as Harry reached up to cup her breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly across her erect nipples. Cho arched her back, bracing her hands on her heels to keep from tumbling backwards, and moaned deep in her throat as Harry grasped her hips and began thrusting upward, rising to meet her as she slammed herself down on him. She increased the tempo until she was riding him even more vigorously than he had thrust into her the night before. Her eyes screwed shut in ecstasy and her moans turned to short, sharp cries as she once more clamped down on him, the sudden constriction pulling a deeper groan from his throat as her climax triggered his a second later.

When it was over, Cho collapsed across Harry's chest, her long, silky black hair spilling over his shoulders and tickling his neck and chin as they both gasped for breath. They lay like that for perhaps ten minutes, murmuring soft, incoherent sounds of love to one another, before they rose. Then they showered together, washing each other thoroughly between passionate kisses and slippery, soapy embraces under the hot spray.

Breakfast that morning was a quiet affair. Harry and Cho were too overwhelmed by their feelings to talk very much, and Sirius and Liu mercifully refrained from embarrassing them with teasing or congratulations; they merely smiled knowingly as they bade the younger couple good morning.

They were just finishing up their morning meal when the front door opened. In the doorway stood Albus Dumbledore and a tall, athletic-looking young witch with pale skin, a pretty, heart-shaped face, and electric-blue hair cut in a pageboy bob. She wore baggy jeans with numerous patches and a scoop-necked t-shirt emblazoned with a photograph of the Weird Sisters playing one of their quicker tunes.

"Good morning, Tonks," called Sirius, as the four of them rose from the table and went to meet the newcomers. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Nymphadora Tonks."

"Wotcher, Harry," the woman said, extending a hand. "Pleased to meet you. Just call me Tonks."

"I remember you," said Liu with a grin. "You were the biggest troublemaker in Gryffindor the last couple of years I was in school."

Tonks gave her a matching grin. "Not an easy title to earn, with you for competition. I thought I'd have it all to myself after you left, but then Fred and George Weasley started school; those two put us both in the shade. 'Course, I had a hand in getting them started on their career of mischief." She turned to Cho. "Wotcher, Cho. I hear you're an even better flyer than your sister was, and that's really saying something."

"Thanks," said Cho, shaking her hand. "Say, I remember you, too… you were the one who sneaked into the kitchen after Slytherin won the Quidditch cup my first year and spiked the hot fudge sauce for their party with that weird potion… what was that stuff, anyway?"

"Polyjuice," said Tonks reminiscently. "With a couple of minor tweaks to delay the effect so they'd all have some before it started to kick in, and finished with a bit of down from my owl instead of human hair. I must say, some of that lot looked much nicer with feathers."

"Despite her rather checkered past," said Dumbledore, "Auror Sergeant Tonks is presently the most junior member of the Auror Division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – and also of the Order of the Phoenix." As before, the Headmaster was careful not to meet Harry's eyes. "She works under Auror Superintendent Kingsley Shacklebolt, also a member of the Order; he has assigned her to work undercover in the Changs' shop."

"I'm going to be your double," said Tonks, grinning down at Cho.

"Using Polyjuice?" asked Harry.

Tonks grinned at him and shook her head. "I don't need Polyjuice," she said. "Just a mirror. Professor?" Dumbledore drew his wand and conjured a full-length mirror, which hung in the air in front of Cho; Tonks moved to stand next to her. Then her blue hair began to lengthen and darken; at the same time, her body shrank and her fair complexion turned to a golden tan. Her features shifted, cheekbones and chin sharpening as her face shortened, her eyelids lowering at the corners and her irises darkening to near blackness. The transformation took less than a minute, and when it stopped the girl who stood before their startled eyes was Cho's identical twin.

"How did you do that?" asked Harry in astonishment.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus," said the duplicate Cho; her voice, too, was a perfect match.

"Is that like an Animagus?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly," said Tonks. "Animagi only have one form, that of a particular animal. Metamorphmagi can't become animals, but we can change our appearance any way we want within human limits. Also, Animagi have to learn to transform, but Metamorphmagi are born with the talent -- sort of like Parselmouths."

"I remembered that you were a Metamorphmagus," said Cho, openly staring at Tonks, "but I hadn't realized how well you could imitate someone."

"It takes training," said Tonks, "and it's not perfect; I couldn't fool someone who knew you for very long. But it should fool any Death Eaters who might come looking for you long enough for you to escape."

"What happens to you, then?" Cho asked. "I wouldn't want to run away and leave you in the lurch."

"I can take care of myself," Tonks assured her. "Auror training makes a big difference when you're dealing with scum like Macnair. And I can call for reinforcements or Apparate away if I have to."

"Miss Tonks' presence is only part of the protection we have placed around your home," Dumbledore added. "The shop and your family's flat are now warded against magical attacks from without, and certain items have been installed which should provide some warning if anyone enters the shop with the intent of harming you or your family. Your sister will show you the detectors and explain their functions in detail when you arrive home."

The headmaster reached into a pocket and withdrew what looked like a compact cosmetics case. "I advise you to keep this on your person or within reach at all times until you return to Hogwarts. The mirror inside it is a Portkey; touch it, and you will be transported here, to the common room of the Harrington Arms. The urn on the mantelpiece contains Floo Powder, and the fire itself, while not in the Floo network proper, is linked to the Order's headquarters. The witch or wizard on duty there will know how to reach me."

"Thank you, Professor," said Cho, accepting the compact.

"Now, Harry," said Dumbledore, still studiously avoiding eye contact. "It has not, of course, escaped my attention that you and Miss Chang have formed a rather close attachment over the past few days. I presume that you will wish to see a good deal of each other at school this year?"

Harry cautiously replied, "We don't expect to visit each other's rooms or anything, but yes, I do want to be with Cho as much as possible."

"And I want to be with Harry," said Cho firmly.

"Of course," said Dumbledore. "There are, however, certain rules which limit the scope of romantic relationships between our students."

Harry blushed. Glancing at Cho, he saw that she had colored as well, but she went on determinedly, "We've probably broken one or two those already; I won't promise we're never going to break any at school."

Though Harry didn't look at Dumbledore's eyes, he felt quite certain they were twinkling as he said, "It is true that the rules of Hogwarts frown on intimate relations among the students; we would be remiss in our duty to their parents if it were otherwise. However, it is equally true that amorous young witches and wizards have been finding ways to circumvent those rules since the Founders' time. I have great faith in your ingenuity, Harry."

"You won't try to stop us?" Harry asked. "I know that you keep an eye on me even when nobody else knows where I am or what I'm doing. I haven't forgotten the Mirror of Erised."

"Have I ever interfered in your escapades since then, Harry? No, I will not stop you. However, I will not assist you, either; escaping the attention of professors, prefects, and Mr. Filch will be entirely up to you, and should you be caught out of bounds you will serve whatever punishments they feel are appropriate. I trust, too, that after the events of the last few days I need not remind you of the potential dangers of straying from the castle and grounds, and that you will at least consider Miss Chang's safety, if not your own."

Chastened, Harry said quietly, "Yes, sir."

"Cheer up, Harry," said Sirius. "Ask me later and I'll tell you all about sweet Polly Plunkett; we never had much trouble making private time when we wanted it."

"I can tell you a few things about the castle, too, little sister," added Liu. "There are lots of places to hide at Hogwarts, if you know where to look."

"And Filch can't be everywhere at once, even with that mangy cat of his helping him to keep an eye on things," said Tonks. While they were talking she had resumed her original appearance, except for her hair, which was now spiky and an extremely intense lime green.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "if there is nothing else, we should all say our goodbyes. Dobby will have packed all of your bags by now; Molly Weasley is expecting Harry and Sirius, and the Changs' customers are expecting their shop to reopen this morning."

"Just a minute," said Harry. "There is one thing…." He stepped close to Sirius and whispered in his ear, "Do you still have the fourth broom you took from the cottage?"

Sirius gave him a quizzical look. "Yes," he said, "Ron and Lupin took theirs with them, but mine and the spare are up in my room. Why?"

"Could we give it to Cho?"

His godfather blinked in surprise. "Certainly, if you want to; no one could say you didn't earn a share of the spoils from that fight."

"After what Cho went through, I think she deserves it more than any of us," Harry said.

"What are you two talking about?" Cho asked.

Harry grinned at her and squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on forming a picture of the racing broom in his mind. Then he lifted his wand and said clearly, "_Accio_ broom!"

Five seconds later the Nimbus came sailing down over the stairs and into Harry's outstretched hand. "Cho," he said, "I'd like you to have this."

Cho's eyes widened as she gingerly took the broom from Harry and ran her fingers lightly over the smooth, honey-colored wood of the handle. "A Nimbus Hyperion," she said reverently. "Where did you get it?"

"Sirius found it at the cottage after we rescued you."

"And you really want to give it to me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Harry asked.

"Well, barring any more Triwizard Tournaments or unforeseen disasters, we will be playing Quidditch against each other sometime this year…."

Harry shrugged. "I still have my Firebolt – this just evens the odds a bit. I couldn't be sure last time whether I really outflew you, or just your Comet; this time, we'll know who flies the best." He grinned and added, "And you should be able to fly rings around Malfoy."

"I… don't know what to say."

"'Thank you' would be a good start," suggested Liu.

Cho threw her arms around Harry in a fierce hug. "Thank you, Harry, oh, thank you! For the broom, for saving my life, for everything in between… God, I love you!"

Harry hugged her hard, nearly overcome by a rush of emotion. He blinked away a tear as he whispered, "I love you too, Cho. You've made me happier than I ever knew I could be, and I wish I could spend the rest of my life with you. I'll write to you every day."

"So will I, Harry," Cho promised. "Every day. I'm going to miss you so much…."

"I'll miss you every moment we're apart. But we'll see each other soon… I'll look for you as soon as I get to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

"I'll be there." They held each other a moment longer, then Cho kissed Harry softly on the lips and stepped back. "I'm ready, Professor."

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Dobby?"

The house-elf hurried down the stairs. In front of him, Harry and Sirius's trunks and Liu's duffel bag floated gracefully through the air. Harry's Firebolt, Sirius's ancient Silver Arrow and new Nimbus Hyperion, and Hedwig's cage were strapped securely to their trunks. The snowy owl fluffed her feathers and hooted irritably as Harry's trunk came to rest beside him.

Sirius and Liu had said their own goodbyes while Harry and Cho were occupied with each other; now Liu picked up her bag and stood between Cho and Tonks. "Here is your Portkey," said Dumbledore. He produced a box of jelly babies from his robe and offered it to the women.

Liu and Tonks took hold of it, and Cho placed her left hand on it, holding her new broom firmly in her right. She smiled once more at Harry and said, "I love you," just as the headmaster raised his wand and said "_Portus!_" The sisters and the young Auror vanished in a small thunderclap of inrushing air.

Sirius sighed. "I suppose there's no reason to delay any longer," he said.

"What about Buckbeak?" Harry asked.

"I will bring Buckbeak along with me," said Dumbledore. "Now, Harry, in order to pass through the protection of the Fidelius Charm, you must know the location to which you travel. Please repeat after me: the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place."

"'The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place,'" Harry repeated.

"Very good," the headmaster said. He pulled a bag of lemon drops from a pocket held it out. Harry and Sirius each took a corner of the bag, and Dumbledore said once more, "_Portus!_"

They landed in a large room with rough-hewn stone walls, a large fireplace that did nothing to brighten an air of gloom and darkness, and a long table with numerous chairs. Several of the chairs were occupied: Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, and Molly Weasley and Hermione Granger were seated around one end of the table. Looking up at the sound of Harry and Sirius's arrival, they all cried "Harry!" in what seemed a single voice. Harry spent the next few minutes being hugged until he could barely breathe. Eventually, Ron, Hermione, and Sirius helped him carry his things up three flights of stairs to a bedroom.

Setting down his end of Harry's trunk, Sirius said sardonically, "Welcome to my house, Harry."

"Thanks, I think," Harry replied, glancing around dubiously at the frayed rug, peeling wallpaper, and the empty portrait frame hanging on the wall. "You weren't kidding about the place, were you?"

Sirius shook his head. "Not even a little. Don't go into any of the rooms unless we tell you it's safe – they haven't all been cleaned out yet. Oh, and you have to keep quiet in the ground floor hall, or my mother's portrait will wake up and start shrieking bloody murder."

"Never mind that now," said Hermione impatiently. "Tell us about Cho! How is she doing?"

"Yeah, mate, how did you two get on?" Ron asked. "Bill and Lupin told us about your meeting with Fudge and Percy – the git – and that Umbridge toad, but what have you been up to for the last two days?"

"Ah. Well…." He cast Sirius a look of supplication, but his godfather merely grinned at him and said, "I think I'll leave you three to catch up; I need to talk to Remus. See you at lunch." He winked at Harry over his shoulder and disappeared down the corridor.

"Well, come on," said Ron. "What happened? Did you two snog?"

"Ron!" said Hermione indignantly. "What kind of a question is that?"

"A jolly good one," said Ron. Hermione gave him a withering glare, but Ron ignored her, gazing expectantly at Harry.

Harry sat down heavily on the edge of the nearest bed. "Yeah," he said. "I guess you could say that."

"Well… what was it like?"

Harry tried hard to come up with an answer that would deflect his best friend's curiosity, but then a flood of memories overwhelmed his thoughts: Cho's hot tears soaking through his shirt as she cried in his arms, the mischievous spark in her eyes as she took another of his chessmen or bluffed him out of a hand of Double Fanucci, her incredulous joy when he gave her the broom… the taste of her mouth when he kissed her that first time, the satin softness of her skin, the way her dark nipples crinkled and hardened at his touch… the light in her face at the climax of their lovemaking… he realized he was grinning like an idiot. "It was wonderful," he said. "Just… wonderful."

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


	14. Epilogue: Consecration

Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

* * *

**Epilogue: Consecration**

"By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes."

--The Weird Sisters, in Shakespeare's _Macbeth_

The masked wizard knelt on the cold flagstone floor, eyes downcast, avoiding the penetrating stare of the reptilian red eyes that gazed out from beneath his Master's hood. At last, his Master spoke.

"You have served me well, Higgs."

"My Lord?" The young man glanced up in surprise. "The mission failed, my Lord."

His Master gave an almost imperceptible shrug. "Even I have been known to fail, Higgs," he said softly. "The fault in this case was Macnair's; he failed to anticipate that Potter might not be alone when he received the challenge, or that he would so easily vanquish the dementors." The sibilant voice sharpened with irritation. "Thanks to Macnair's blunder, they have broken off our negotiations for the release of my faithful servants languishing in Azkaban.

"Macnair has been suitably punished for his lack of foresight – and unless he redeems himself by succeeding in his next assignment, I may permit Dolohov and the Lestranges to express their… gratitude for the extension of their incarceration. Macnair fancies himself the most vicious of all my Death Eaters; I believe he may have forgotten what Antonin and Bellatrix are capable of…." The red eyes glinted maliciously.

"In any case, the information you provided was correct, and may yet prove useful."

"I see, my Lord."

"You do," his Master agreed. "And that is why you will be the first wizard to join the ranks of my Death Eaters since my return. Hold out your left hand."

Higgs felt long, cold white fingers close about his wrist in an iron grip. His Master touched his wand to Higgs' forearm and hissed, "_Morsmordre Stigma_!" Higgs gritted his teeth at the searing pain but remained silent as the Dark Mark was burned into his flesh.

And at that moment, Harry Potter awoke in an upper room in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, his scar burning into his forehead like a hot knife.

"Wuzzat?" Ron mumbled, half-asleep, from across the room.

"Nothing; it's nothing," Harry lied. "Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep."

Ron was already asleep again before Harry finished the sentence. And, hard as he tried to recall it, he'd started to forget the dream as soon as he woke up. It was another half hour before he dropped back into sleep, feeling deeply troubled.

**Finis**

* * *

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.


End file.
